


The Devil Wears White

by Aizenat



Series: The Faust City Chronicles [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Brainwashing, Character Death, Corporal Punishment, Courtroom Drama, Cults, Cultural Differences, Dissociation, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Escape, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Forced Bonding, Forced Cohabitation, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Feminization, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, Freedom, Gay Sex, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Character, Gun Violence, Idiots in Love, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intersex, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Magical Tattoos, Meeting the Parents, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Spanking, Past Rape/Non-con, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Conflict, Religious Cults, Rough Sex, Running Away, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Spanking, Trauma, Trauma Bonding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 184,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aizenat/pseuds/Aizenat
Summary: The rest of the room faded away as we watched each other, memories of the five months we spent together dancing between us. He called himself my husband, I called him my rapist. He wanted me to go back to the Nation with him; back to the Willows with him.And I was going to fight like hell to make sure that didn’t happen.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: The Faust City Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552870
Comments: 355
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

My life had become a circus. It was easier to think of it that way. Between the news media, my parents, and my coworkers, I was in a constant state of performance. Slowly walking a tightrope while everyone held their breaths and wondered wistfully if I’ll fall.

As I stared out the car window, watching reporters and photographers crowd around and block the space between the car and the door to the municipal building, I insouciantly wondered what would happen if I just snapped and burned them all. I was so tired of having to have it together all the time.

“Vultures,” my mother said next to me, gripping her purse in her lap.

“It’s the story of the year,” my father reminded her from her other side.

Already bored of the conversation, I turned back to the mob. If I wasn’t in the middle of all this mess, I’d find the whole thing hilarious.

“I don’t care,” my mother was saying. “They could have a bit respect. Andres.”

My mother placed a hand on my knee to get my attention, and I couldn’t stop the way my body tensed. I’d gotten pretty good at not doing that around her; my mother, after all, was known for her loving touches and healing hugs. So I’d learned another performance over the last couple of months: relaxing when she touched me. I let out a steady breath. The show must go on, and today was not the day to slip.

“ _Sí_?” I asked, turning back towards her.

She hesitated, casually removing her hand. As if she didn’t feel me tense. As if it didn’t break her heart that she could no longer hold me the way she used to all my life. The way I knew she wanted to right now.

“You don’t have to do this, Andres,” she told me, taking my lead and switching to Spanish. “We can go home. Jenn said—”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“You’re not going back.”

“I don’t want to,” I repeated, shaking my head. “I can’t. I want to make sure I don’t have to.”

My mother opened her mouth to say something, but my father cut her off with a hand on her shoulder.

“Maya,” he scolded her gently, still speaking English. He wasn’t confident enough to speak Spanish himself. “We’ve been through this.”

“It’s just a mediation,” I told her. I turned back to the mob of people still yelling and waiting for us to step out. Without meaning to, I added, “They’re the worst part of this.”

After a beat, my mother nodded, glaring at the reporters outside.

“Vultures,” she repeated.

My father let out a heavy sigh before moving. He paused with his hand on the handle, ready to get out. He looked at us, his eyes lingering on me longer than they did my mother. He titled his chin up.

“You ready?”

I shrugged. “As ready as I can be.”

My father nodded, somber. “Wait for me to let you out.”

Before I could respond, he opened the door. The reporters were relentless, their questions slamming into the car with such speed that I couldn’t understand what they were saying. My mother handed me a pair of sunglasses, putting one over her own face. To prevent anyone from getting a picture of my face and trying to run a story from it, my lawyer had told me. My father was good at keeping a clear face, but I was my mother’s son.

I followed her lead, getting the glasses on right as my father opened the door on my side. I took a deep breath in and out before taking my father’s hand and letting him help me out of the car. There were reporters not even a foot away, asking questions that I could barely register. I turned to help my mother out of the car, noting that the driver—a security guard who worked for the city—had gotten out and started directing the reporters away from us.

They backed up a couple of steps; enough for my father to start guiding us to the building. But they were still on us like glue, shoving microphones in front of us and dangling booms above us with hopes of catching us say something they could write about. The guard walked ahead of us, pushing people back and threatening legal action if they didn’t let us through.

I turned my gaze to the looming, white building, the glass dome above it an eyesore. At least from the outside; the way the light pored into the lobby at midday was probably what made the city agree to it. I’d spent too much time in this building in the last month to appreciate that beauty.

“Andres! Andres!” the reporters screamed, trying to get my attention. “What do you hope happens today? Do you plan on taking this trial? What will you do if mediation doesn’t work? Have you spoken to Jacob or Serenity?”

My lawyer had told me to ignore them. To not show any reaction to any question. Keep my steps firm; no faltering. To not give them anything. As we approached the stairs leading up to the main entrance, the questions got louder. The reporters pressed behind us, shouting and practically shoving us. I wanted to scream at them, but that would just create a story about how I was hysterical before the mediation.

“Andres, is it true this is all a publicity stunt? Are you lying about what happened to you? Do you love Evan Reyes?”

We stopped as the security guard opened the door. I was grateful for it, because that question sent blood rushing to my head. Everything else went silent, and I couldn’t remember how to walk. My father wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me inside. Once the door closed, the reporters went silent.

“Andres?” my mother asked as we headed to an elevator in the main hall. “ _¿Estás bien, mijo_?”

I nodded, unable to speak. She took off her glasses, taking mine when I handed them to her, and looked at me as we approach the elevator.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” she told me.

“I already got through them,” I said as we stepped into the elevator. The guard took out his phone and waved us on. My father hit the button for the third floor. “Go back for what?”

“I know you really want to do this, _mijo_ , but—”

“Why are you trying to talk him out of it?” my father interrupted. “He’s a big boy; let him take care of himself.”

“Because he’s going to see that motherfucker,” my mother snapped, switching to English. I frowned; my mother didn’t curse. She was obviously upset about this. “I just don’t…”

My mother’s words fell off as she turned from us. My heart was racing. What did she think would happen once I saw Evan? Nothing would happen. He couldn’t hurt me here in Faust City. Not in the municipal building where there were tons of security guards. Not when I had my magic back.

No, there was only thing that could make her so nervous. That reporter’s question echoed in my mind. _Do you love Evan Reyes?_

“If this is too much for you, you don’t have to be here,” I said, rather unkindly.

“Andres, I—”

“Dad’s right,” I said in English as I turned to face her. “Dad’s right: I’m a big boy. I can handle this on my own.”

The elevator door opened to a long hallway with dark carpet and wood walls. The lights were dimmer than the were in the lobby. Oddly intimate. I walked down the hall, not bothering to make sure my parents were with me, and found my lawyer, Jenn, pacing outside a room. She looked up at me, letting out a heavy breath.

“Right on time,” she said.

Jenn Kincaid looked younger than she was, and it didn’t help that she was so short. Still, she was a firecracker, and exactly what we needed. Leaning against the wall were Jacob and Serenity. Jacob was shorter than me, younger and with a lighter, sable color to his skin. He’d given himself an undercut since coming back to Faust City, the rest of his curls pulled back in a neat bun. His mother was holding prayer beads in her hand.

Serenity had a darker brown skin, similar to my own. Like me, she’d cut her hair short when she came back, though she’d kept it in a shaven yet feminine style instead of letting it grow out into a tapered fro like I did. Her stomach was starting to show a bit; she must have been in her second trimester by now. She had her older sisters with her, both just as tall as she was, though one was curvier around the hips and thighs.

“Are they here?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. My parents were right there, though keeping enough distance so that I didn’t feel crowded.

“They’re inside,” Jenn said, nodding towards the door. “Now that everyone’s here, a reminder: family has to stay out here for a shitload—excuse me, Ms. Wallace,” she added, looking at Jacob’s mother, “of legal reasons.” She waved me over so that I was standing by the wall next to Jacob and Serenity. “I know we’ve been through this, but it doesn’t hurt repeating. You must all keep a united front. They’re going to say things in an attempt to get you emotional. Don’t fall for it. Remember why you’re here, and that you want to stay here. And try to let me do most of the talking.”

I nodded, seeing Jacob and Serenity mirror me. Serenity put a hand on her stomach as she took a few breaths in. Jacob seemed bored of the whole thing. I knew better though.

“Alright, kiddos,” Jenn said, opening the door. “Let’s get started.”

I was closest to the door once Jenn went inside. So after one last look at my parents, I followed her in. The room was wide with a giant table in the middle. There were exactly eight chairs—four on each side. And on the side against the wall were four people. A male lawyer in a fitted suit and with gray hair peppered throughout.

The other three were all in white pants and white button up shirts. The familiarity of it made me think of rolling fields, the long dinner table, and the smell of sunflowers that lined the compound of the Willows.

My eyes, against my better judgement, went straight to the man sitting next to the lawyer. He was tall—obvious even though he was sitting down. Unlike the other two, he was darker in complexion; obviously mixed. His coily hair was kept in a short and neat hairstyle, and his eyes were a honey hazel that would be popular in Faust City.

Our eyes met immediately, and like a moth to a flame, I followed Jenn and sat next to her. Across from him. His face was blank—as usual—as he watched me sit down. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; his stubble and the bags under his eyes that made me wonder if he had trouble sleeping without me. The black and red tattoos down his arms laced around his hands, visible as he kept them folded in front of him.

As I sat, I saw the way his hands twitched. My own fanned out automatically, as if reaching for him. I could feel the hum of magic surrounding him, the silent threat that made my own magic heat my body up.

“Hello, Andres,” he said as I felt Jacob and Serenity sit down on my other side.

“Evan,” I said, tilting my head up.

“I’ve missed you, _mi sol_.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I can’t relate.”

Evan let out a small chuckle—a scoff almost. I didn’t falter. I didn’t look away. And Evan didn’t look away from me either. The rest of the room faded away as we watched each other, memories of the five months we spent together dancing between us. He called himself my husband, I called him my rapist. He wanted me to go back to the Nation with him; back to the Willows with him.

And I was going to fight like hell to make sure that didn’t happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Finally back at it again with uploads! 
> 
> So some notes/updates: 
> 
> THIS IS NOT THE SEQUEL I INTENDED. I feel bad because I know a lot of people were expecting something different, especially if you checked out my Necromancer's Delight one shots. But, well, things happened. 
> 
> On that note, some sad news. My grandfather passed away the day after my last upload. And with it being days before the new year, it kinda meant January was just crazy. I also moved a couple of weeks prior to that, which was stressful as hell and it meant that until now, I've just been OUT of it. Everything feels weird and shit, and nothing is working. So I'm just stressed all the time. 
> 
> That being said, I started writing this story. It was meant to be a side story that I would write during times of blocks, but it just started taking on a life of it's own. Also, and this is fun, I both 1) have no idea where I'm going with this story and 2) AM ONLY 5 CHAPTERS IN. This means I still have a bit of a buffer, but you all know I prefer to have more a buffer than that. 
> 
> BUT, honestly, I missed uploading. I missed the feedback. I just needed it again. And nothing else was working, so I want to share this story and I hope you all enjoy it. It's new characters, though some of the old ones might be making cameos: I kinda already know how I'd do it if I want to, so it's likely! Lol. 
> 
> Side note: when I was younger, I used to ONLY write in first person. But then in recent years, I got so stuck in writing in third person, that writing this in first person feels weird lol. I kept occasionally switching to third person, so if you catch it, please let me know. I, of course, try to edit these before posting, but mistakes still get through. It's kinda fun doing first person again. I felt insecure about it when an author I used to follow said she only read third person POV stories; I worried first person came across as too childish or something. But there's nothing wrong with it. I actually prefer it in some cases. I'm glad I get to play around in this POV again. 
> 
> Another note: This will likely be my last full story in this series. Since this ended up being the sequel, and it's not the story I intended, I had to think a lot about what was so hard about writing this sequel. And, honestly, I think it was just that I didn't want to tell it. Hilariously enough, I was thinking while watching the Bojack Horseman finale (spoilers if you haven't seen it and you care btw) about the idea of feeling that you "have to" write something. One character in the show, Diane, is a writer who gets an advance to write a memoir/essay collection. She tries to write about her traumas, but it doesn't work. Nothing is clicking. Then she starts writing this other fun story about a Vietnamese girl who solves mall mysteries, and she ends up writing that story. The woman who got her the book deal encourages her to write that over the memoir because she was having fun with it, her boyfriend's son loves the story, and it becomes a big middle-school aged story. 
> 
> When I write, I write stories I want to see/read. The story that I was working on that inspired Before the Fall was my take on a webcomic I was reading that got cancelled (kinda) before it was completed. So I wanted to write my version of it. Then I was writing the "before" stories, which Before the Fall was one of. And the only reason Before the Fall was completed was because I watched the second season of the Handmaid's Tale, HATED IT, said I could write a dystopian story based around reproductive labor that makes 10000xs more sense than that bullshit, and I did. 
> 
> I think my point is that last year was about learning how to fall in love with writing again after years of depression killing it and this year needs to be about finding out what stories I want to tell. And the sequels I was trying to write wasn't it. 
> 
> I think I'll still write some one shots, just for funsies, and post them on Necromancer. But I don't think I'll do a legit sequel. I do apologize if this upsets some people, but I gotta do me, you know? 
> 
> With that said, I hope you all like this story. Idk why I decided to write about a cult, but here we are. I like that this story will focus more on the religiosity aspect of the Nation's laws. This cult shit is gonna get weird lol. 
> 
> Mind the tags as always, let me know what you think, and uploads will be every Sunday. So happy to be back, y'all! :3


	2. Chapter 2

Our flight had been early. The week in Atlanta had been almost magical; the protection of the convention center and the nearby hotels, as well as all of the security had made our trip to the Nation a calm one. I didn’t think anything of going out to the pool to soak up some sun in between panels and talks, spent evenings at the hotel bar debating with men about research articles I’d helped write, and spent a couple of nights in the rooms of men and women my age who were also regulars at these conventions eating pizza or Chinese while watching horrible horror movies some of the Nation born ones had never seen before.

The international medical and science conventions were the highlights of my year. And this year was no different. I hadn’t slept the night before. I couldn’t sleep, too excited from the last day and knowing I had to get up early anyway. So I texted Lyle; a graduate student from Canada who spent the first year he knew me pretending he hated me. The next year, he finally decided he liked me enough for us to exchange numbers.

And on that last night, after we broke into the pool area to skinny dip, we finally hooked up.

I had snuck back into the hotel room that I had been sharing with Dr. Augustus Harvey—Gus, he forced me to call him—and Jacob and silently finished packing. And once they finally woke up at two, I pretended that I had already showered and gotten ready for the day. Jacob didn’t know I was a late—and heavy—sleeper, so he believed me. But Gus had sagely patted my shoulder at my lie, calling the shower first.

After making a remark about the chlorine in the pool being strong that morning because he could smell it from our room.

By three-thirty, we were packed and ready to leave. The ladies, Dr. Beverly Warren and Serenity, were waiting for us in the lobby so we could check out. The lobby had a few other international travelers running through their checklists and calling for rides to the airport. Guards lingered around the doors, checking passports and making sure everyone was safe and accounted for.

One would escort us to airport; a short ride that was uneventful. Our plan boarded at five, and we were in the air less than a half hour later. By the time we landed in Baton Rouge and loaded our bags into the car Gus had rented, it was barely 9. We all piled in, Gus and Bev taking the front seats while the three of us “youngsters,” as Gus called us, squeezed in the back. Jacob immediately curled up against the window with a book, tuning us out: all of the excitement from the trip had exhausted him. Serenity took the other end, snapping pictures with her camera as we headed down I-10.

That left me in the middle, which was fine. I opened up the sunroof, closing my eyes as I thought about the past week. My thoughts quickly turned to Lyle. How confident and sure his hands had felt on me, how hot his lips were when we kissed, and how easily he slid inside me.

My lips curled into a smile as I thought about what would happen next between us. I imagined more nightly trysts at the next few conventions before he’d work up the nerve to discuss taking our relationship more seriously. If I was even available by then: Lyle was lucky his patience has gotten him this far.

“Oh, God,” Serenity said loudly, groaning as Bev laughed in front of her. “Dr. G, what the hell is this?”

Gus had started playing music from one of his playlists on his phone. I had long gotten used to the terrible music Gus played: it was on repeat at the lab. My only reprieve was when he was too busy teaching classes and we could listen to something sensible.

“This, dear child,” he said over the music, not taking his eyes off the road, “is the great Bruce Springsteen.”

“And how long ago did this guy die?”

I smiled; I had asked the same thing when I first heard Gus’ playlist.

“It might have been a while ago.”

“Like a hundred years?”

“Okay, young lady,” Gus scolded, though the faint smile on his face showed he wasn’t too upset. He looked at Bev. “Kids these days don’t know good music.”

“Oh, no,” Bev said, shaking her head. “Do not drag me into this. I like music from this century.”

“Oh, c’mon! This man is a legend!”

“In New Jersey,” I said not-so-quietly.

Bev laughed, though Serenity’s polite smile meant she didn’t get the joke.

“The disrespect,” Gus said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “I expected better from you, Andy. I thought we had a connection.”

“Give me a raise next quarter and I’ll call him a genius.”

Gus glared at me.

“Two percent.”

“Ten,” I countered.

“Five.”

“Deal,” I laughed. Gus was crazy enough to follow through on that. Still…

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he prompted, almost bouncing from the driver’s seat.

I shook my head. “I need it in writing before I commit to that.”

Serenity and Bev laughed as Gus grumbled and turned the song to something old but at least in a Motown way.

_This old heart of mine been broke a thousand times. Each time you break away, I fear you've gone to stay…_

I closed my eyes, dozing for a bit. I could still hear Serenity and Bev chide Gus on his music tastes some more while Jacob only moved to tap to the next page of his e-book. I thought of Lyle, of getting home and texting him. I thought of what my mother would make for me once I got home, and of getting to sleep in tomorrow since I was smart enough to put in some vacation time.

“Shit!”

The car jerked to a stop before drastically making a sharp left. I unintentionally fell against Serenity, though I quickly moved before I could trigger any potential claustrophobia. Jacob had dropped his e-reader and was looking around to figure out what was going on. I followed his eyes outside his window: there was a large, black SUV with heavily tinted windows driving alongside us.

“What happened?” I asked, looking forward.

Gus’ eyes were on the road as he slowed, gentler this time. Bev’s face was frozen in horror. There was another black SUV in front of us, going insanely slow. I felt my heart drop, understanding immediately while understanding nothing.

“These aren’t cops,” Serenity muttered.

I turned and saw her staring out her own window. Sure enough, there was another black SUV there too. Dread chilled my blood as turned in my seat. I wasn’t surprised by this point to see the matching black SUV tailing us. We were surrounded.

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked, his voice soft.

No one answered him because we really didn’t know. And yet, we all did. Bev reached over and gripped Gus’ arm.

“You have to get past them,” she said.

“They’re not letting me out,” Gus said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“We can’t stop. No one else is on this road.”

Bev was right. At a certain point, they had come off the highway to a longer and more secluded road with open fields. There wasn’t anyone else around. Fucking GPS taking them off the main roads just to avoid a little traffic.

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked again.

I turned to him, remembering how young he was, suddenly. He was barely eighteen; still a kid in every sense of the word.

“Just some shitty drivers around us,” I told him, watching as the one in front of us stepped on their brakes. “No big deal.”

“If that were the case, everyone wouldn’t be fucking terrified right now,” Jacob snap, his eyes hard as he glared at me. “Don’t condescend to me, Andres. You know me better than that.”

 _Right_ , I remembered. _Not a kid_.

And I wasn’t in the mood to find it amusing.

“You’re the fucking genius, Jacob,” I told him. “Read the room.”

“And don’t ask questions with obvious answers,” Serenity said. “Especially when it’s just because you’re too scared to say it yourself.”

Jacob opened his mouth to say something to here, but Gus revved the engine, getting their attention.

“Hold on kids!” he yelled, punching the gas.

Bev cried out as they accelerated in a gap between the car in front of and to the left of us. Gus tried to force his way through, hitting the corner of the one in front of us. While Gus did bang up the front of the car, he broke through. He tried to veer right back on track in the road, the sound of the other cars speeding up as loud as our shouts.

The car on the right of us kept pace, occasionally banging into us in an attempt to push us off the road. Bev yelled at Gus to slow down so the other car passed them, but Serenity pointed out how utterly stupid that was when there were three more cars chasing after them.

“And I’m saying—” Bev started, right when the car on the right passed us and made an abrupt turn in front of us.

Gus didn’t have time to try to stop: we slammed right into the side of the Black SUV, our airbags deploying. It was hard to make sense of what was happening; I in particular felt like I had been punched by five air bags at once.

It took a few blinks before my vision cleared. Jacob was punching the airbag on his side down while Serenity was leaning against me to catch her breath. Bev was shaking Gus, trying to stir him. He moaned as he lifted his head, his face littered with bruises.

“Lock the doors!” Bev was shouting.

I looked around, trying to understand. The Black SUVs were surrounding us again, men climbing out of them. I froze, watching the men get out in their all black pants and sweaters, black masks over their face with nothing visible but their eyes. And they were all carrying guns: military grade rifles.

Fuck.

“The doors!” Bev said, pressing the button. Only her door locked.

“What?” Gus said, moving slowly as he looked around. When he turned his head, I could see where he had hit his head hard on the car door.

“Lock the—”

The door opened on Gus’s side. Everything seemed to slow as Gus turned to meet the man. He opened his mouth, to say who knows what, when the barrel of the gun kissed his forehead. The gun went off an explosion so loud and powerful that it shook the car and left my ears ringing.

I froze, watching as Jacob and Serenity screamed. He man stepped back and shut the door while Bev cried as Gus’ body went limp in her lap. There was blood everywhere, the entire top of Gus’ head blown off. Bev pushed him away, screaming with tears running down her face. I couldn’t hear her, but I could see the terror in her face.

I thought in that moment that we were all going to die.

The ringing got quieter. Bev hit the lock on her door again just as the man walked around to her side of the car. They all watched as the man failed to open the door, frowning at Bev through the car door. He said something, motioning to the car when another man walked over the side Gus was bleeding out on. He opened the door, his gun pointed at Bev as he climbed over Gus’s body to unlock the door. He threatened Bev—I could hear that—to not touch the lock again, and her face collapsed as she watched the other man open the door to her side.

“Hello, ma’am,” the guy said, his voice a bit muffled, though clear. “How old are you?”

Understanding hit Bev immediately as she started crying harder. She had her hands raised in surrender.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, just let us go.”

“I asked you a question, ma’am. Please answer it or we’ll just shoot you.”

Bev’s cries turned to hyperventilating, and she struggled to get words out.

“For—” she said between tears. “Forty-tw—”

Before she could finish it, the gun exploded again. Bev fell back, a hole through her brain as she bled out on top of Gus. My ears didn’t ring this time, so I heard firsthand the horrified shrieks from Jacob and Serenity. I met Bev’s eyes, watched as the light left them and she passed. I felt cold. Numb. I’d never felt terror like this before.

How did this happen?

The door on Jacob’s side opened, and he screamed as he pushed against me in an attempt to get away. A man leaned down, looking at the three of us. His gun was propped easily in his hand.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, different from the one who shot Gus and Bev. “What do we have here?”

All at once, everything seemed to snap into place. I understood what was happening, and understood why Guy and Bev had been killed. I watched the man move to aim his gun at us and knew I needed to be quicker.

“We’re surrogates,” I told him, moving to unbuckle Jacob’s seatbelt. “Him and me both. We’re both surrogates.”

Jacob untangled himself and turned on me, his eyes hot with anger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled.

“Making sure you fucking live,” I snapped back as I undid my own seatbelt. 

The man paused for a second before moving to lean his gun off somewhere. He reached out, taking Jacob by the wrist.

“That so? Then come out here, little one, so we can verify that.”

Jacob pulled away, the action shocking the man enough that Jacob got free.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he screamed as he pushed and kicked at the man’s every attempt to grab him.

But the man laughed.

“Feisty, huh? No problem: I like a challenge.”

And with the precision of a viper, the man struck. He grabbed one of Jacob’s wrists, pulling him until his feet were out of the car. Then, ignoring Jacob’s kicks, he wrapped an arm around Jacob’s waist and forced him from the car. Jacob screamed and fought as hard as he could, cursing at the man the way only a teenager could.

I moved to follow him, but someone slammed the car door after him. Something told me I shouldn’t try so hard to leave.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Serenity asked as she unbuckled herself. “Why did you tell them that you were intersex? You know what this country does to people like you!”

“I also know what they do to women like you,” I told her, meeting her eyes. “And it’s better than what happened to Gus and Bev.”

Serenity glanced at them before squeezing her eyes shut. She opened her mouth to say something before the door swung over on her side. She snapped around, looking at another masked man with a gun. Her breaths got heavy.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, as if talking to a wild animal. His voice sounded surprisingly higher pitched for a man. “How old are you?”

Serenity let out a small whine as she shook her head. Considering what happened to Bev when she was asked that question, I couldn’t blame her.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” the man said, kneeling. “We just need to get an idea of how much time we have. That’s all.”

Serenity was crying; sobbing really. She tried to take calming breaths, and the man waited for her patiently.

“Twenty-two,” she said after a beat. “I’m twenty-two.”

“Now that wasn’t hard, was it?” the man said, standing. He held out his hand for her. “Come on out here, sweetie.”

Serenity shook her head, the sobs starting again. She looked at me, and I realized immediately she wanted direction.

“They’re not going to hurt you,” I told her. At her incredulous look, I added, “They might rough us up a bit, b

ut they’re not going to hurt us. Okay?”

She shook her head at me as she cried, then looked up at the man and shook her head again. He didn’t move, his hand still outstretched and waiting. Serenity took his hand, crying even harder.

“No,” she said as the man gently pulled her out of the car. “Please, no. No, no, no no no no no.”

The man got her to her feet, guiding her away from the car. Before shutting the door, he leaned down and looked at me.

“You stay here,” he said. “And behave.”

I nodded because there was really no response to that. The man shut the door, and I was alone. I took a few breaths, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t look at Gus and Bev. I heard Jacob still screaming, his yells getting desperate and almost feral. He heard a few of the men laugh. Jacob was going to have a really hard time if he kept that up.

The door opened again; to my left. I turned, watching as a man slid into the car next to me, a gun on his back. He moved, taking the gun and placing it between his legs as a casual threat. He turned to me with hazel eyes that looked surprisingly human considering what monsters these men were. He watched me, his eyes lurking up and down my body. I recognized the hungry look in them.

Shit.

“Hello,” he said, then stopped as if just realizing the way his mask muffled his words.

He moved and took off the hood. His sable skin spoke to a mixed heritage, his coily hair neat despite being a bit matted from the hood. He had a strong jaw, and his hazel eyes were even more beautiful without the mask. If he wasn’t a murder and a kidnapper, he would have been exactly my type.

“Let’s try that again,” he said, flashing me a pretty smile. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, c’mon! This man is a legend!”  
> “In New Jersey,” I said not-so-quietly.
> 
> I can say that because I'm from NJ. Anyone else who tries it is problematic lol. 
> 
> I don't have any particular hate for Bruce. I'm just not a fan and find the way people in this state obsess over him odd. 
> 
> No real major updates. I'm 8ish chapters in, which makes me feel a lot better that i can go a month without writing and be fine. I've been writing kinda crazy recently. I don't have a set plot for this, but I know what I want to write if that makes sense. I'm going to hit a few plot points and then be good. I think this story will be much shorter than the the last one. Hopefully. 
> 
> I'm trying something new continuity wise with this story. It's going to jump around between where Andres is after escaping from the Willows and showing his time while at the Willows. I've never done anything like this before, so I hope it turns out well. I'm excited for it. 
> 
> Oh, and a random side note. I watched To All the Boys I've Loved Before (finally) and it was super super CUTE! I loved it! What was funny was it made me remember what type of stories I liked to read as a teen, and what type of stories I want to write. I've been struggling with that recently; trying to figure out what I want to write. And so the movie made me excited for the writing projects I'll be doing after this story. Idk which ones I'll post here since one of them I know I'll want to publish. So we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> Anyway that's it. I'm off to sleep. Another work week begins. Ugh. 
> 
> Please leave comments! I love them so much! Even silly ones will sustain me lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight or freeze?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please mind the tags. For this chapter, please be warned that there is graphic depiction of sexual assault.

The silence between us stretched uncomfortably. The urge to move, to fidget just a little, was overwhelming. But the hawkish way his eyes stayed on me, as if waiting for that give, forced me into stillness. He was testing me; I knew it. So I held his gaze and waited. 

There was a loud wail from outside the car. Jacob. Screaming and then more yelling and laughing. Who knew what these monsters were doing to him. I blinked. Once. Then twice. The man moved then, leaning back against the door and glancing through the window before turning back to me. 

“How old is your friend?” he asked, his voice low and commanding. 

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to Gus and Bev’s still bodies in the front seat before catching myself. The man saw my apprehension and smiled. 

“Don’t,” he warned. “You’ve been very smart so far.” He nodded at the car door behind me. “The girl is being smart. But _he’s_ not. I’m only curious if it’s an age thing, or if he’s going to be _difficult_.” 

He hadn’t said the last part as a threat, but I still understood that it was. I took in a quick breath, immediately opening my mouth. 

“He’s just scared,” I told him, holding his gaze. “He’s only eighteen.” 

“ _Only_ eighteen,” the man repeated, a lopsided smile on his lips. As though I had made a joke. 

Though in the Nation, maybe I had. Eighteen was still a kid in Faust City. Eighteen was legal in the Nation. 

“He’s _scared_ ,” I repeated. 

“Hmm,” the man said, tossing the barrel of his gun between his hands. “And how old are you?” 

“That seems like a loaded question with you people.” 

“Hesitant,” the man said, his voice low. He wasn’t really talking to me; it was as if he was making a mental note of something. When he spoke again, however, it was towards me. “We just need to know how much time you have. That’s all.” 

I tried very hard not to look at Bev again. 

“Time for what?” 

“Time to adjust.” 

_That_ was absolutely a threat. I took in a deep breath and nodded. 

“I’m twenty-five,” I admitted. 

The man seemed satisfied, but he gave me a sympathetic smile. 

“Not much time at all.” 

“Enough that you’re not going to kill me, right?” It was a stupid question. And it wasn’t a real one. It was necessary for me to make it known that I was quite aware of what all of this meant. 

“You said you’re a surrogate?” the man asked, expertly not answering my question. 

I nodded. “I am.” 

“City folk don’t call it that, do they?” 

I shook my head. 

“I’m going to have to check.” 

I took in a quick breath, my chest visibly rising. 

“I’m not lying,” I told him. 

“I believe you,” he said with an easy nod. “I still have to check.” 

I shook my head, my act breaking. Fuck. 

“If I ask nicely, can you please not?” I tried.

The man didn’t answer. He simply blinked at me, waiting. Making more mental notes. I felt my face heat up, my embarrassment moving energy through my body like electricity. I had to keep that in check; my magic could disarm this man in front of me. But Jacob and Serenity were still in the hands of heavily armed men.

I had to be smart. And lashing out with magic just because I could wasn’t smart.

“Fine,” I said, swallowing and looking out the back window. “I just—fine.”

The man gave another slow, sympathetic, nod. He moved his gun from between his legs, leaning it against the door behind him. My stomach clenched as he closed the gap between us, his left arm leaning against the seat while his other hand easily reached for my pants to undo them.

Panic seized my body, my hand snapping to stop his as he grabbed the button of my jeans. His hand went still and my face got even hotter. He didn’t berate nor chide me for it, and yet I still felt like a child under his steady gaze. I hated most how I felt like that just for not wanting a stranger to touch me.

Before the moment could go on too long, I pushed his hand away and immediately started to undo my pants myself. The man let me, resting his hand on my thigh as he waited. It felt heavy as lead, but I ignored it to focus on the task at hand. As soon as my zipper was down, his hand started moving again, firm and relenting.

“Spread your legs for me,” he said as his hand slid past my boxer-briefs.

I closed my eyes, pretending I couldn’t feel his eyes on me as I obeyed him. The man pressed forward, moving the length of my dick so that it was pointed up and out of his way. He continued down, his warm hands tickling the underside where they grazed my vulva instead of a sac of balls.

“Hmm,” he said, adjusting himself. I opened my eyes and watched as he shifted to one knee so that he had more leverage. “You _were_ telling the truth.”

“I said I was,” I said, my hand grabbing his arm. “Are you done now?”

“No. I’m not.”

And with a precision that let me know he’d done this more times than I wanted to know, he slipped two fingers inside. I gasped at the penetration, my hand coming up to his shoulder. Pushing him didn’t do anything; he was bigger. And stronger. All I could do was sit there while he fingered me gently.

“Please,” I whispered as he moved again so he could get his fingers in deeper. Shit, now it actually felt nice. “I haven’t—I’m not—” I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say.

“You’re not a stranger to this, are you?” he asked, his voice playful as he hit deeper. “How many men have you been with?”

I shook my head, my hips moving from the force of his thrusts. He wasn’t a stranger to this either. He picked up his pace, rubbing a spot inside me that would have made my knees weak had I been standing. I was finding it harder to catch my breath.

“Answer my question,” he said in my ear.

“One,” I said, closing my eyes as he picked up the pace. How was his hand not cramping?

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re more experienced than that. I’m not moving.”

“What?” I gasped, forcing my hips to still.

He looked down at me, a lopsided smirk on his face. Sure enough, when my hips stopped, so did the thrusting. I blinked away from him, shaking my head. He let out a small laugh, leaning closer so he could speak in my ear again.

“How many men have you been with?”

I swallowed. “Six.”

His fingers started moving again, and I let out a small whine before I could stop it.

“Was that so hard?” he mocked, fucking me with his fingers. He added another finger, the stretch annoyingly pleasant. “Can you come like this?”

I shook my head.

“What do you need to come?”

I shook my head again. Fuck him. He wasn’t getting that.

“You like penetration,” the man said when I didn’t answer. “Do you need a dick inside you to get you there?”

“Please, stop,” I begged, pushing against his hand.

“I’ll stop if you answer my question.”

I swallowed, his fingers relentless. I just needed a moment to catch up. To process all of this. I needed him to stop.

“I do,” I spit out, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You do what?”

“I do need—” I cut myself off, covering my face with my hands. God, this was embarrassing. “I need a dick in me in order to come.”

The man’s fingers stopped, and he pulled them out easily. As soon as he was gone, I moved away from the man, pressing my legs together tightly and zipping up my pants. I looked up at him, his eyes stalking me as he licked my juices off his fingers. He smiled at me.

“Was I too mean?” he asked, as if talking to a pouting child. “You look like you want to bite my head off.”

“Do you blame me?” I snapped.

The man found his ski mask and used it to wipe the rest of his hands. He threw it to the side, the mask landing on Gus’ head. I watched it land, their bodies forgotten until that moment. My mission forgotten until that moment.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning back to him. “I just got a bit overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”

The man nodded, moving and opening the car door behind him. Someone asked him something, and he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said, grabbing his gun and dropping it on the ground. “Give me another five—” he paused, turning to look at me. “Ten minutes.”

He shut the door again, and we were alone. The gun was gone. That could have been a gesture of good faith. I’d behaved, so now he would drop the threat. It did make him weaker, now. I knew a few compulsion spells; if I could cast it before he realized what was happening, I could get him to convince his buddies to let us go. Maybe even force him to drive us back to the city himself.

“As much as I love playing with you,” he said, leaning against the door again, watching me, “we need to get serious now.”

“Serious?” I asked before I could stop myself. The compulsion spell would need a bit of his hair. How could I get that without him realizing what I was doing? “Serious how?”

“You’re the oldest one here. That means the other two are going to be looking for you to lead them in their behavior.”

“Both of them?” I asked. “Surrogates get sold off, right? Serenity will be—”

“The Nation is not a monolith,” the man said, frowning at my interruption. “Our community is not quite that archaic.”

“You still intend to breed us.”

“We intend to see you three married, immediately. And yes, you will be expected to help our community be fruitful.”

“Married?” I felt my heart drop.

“Yes, married. All three of you. So, the other two will need guidance on how to go about adapting to all of this. I expect you to steer them towards obedience and submission.”

I had never wanted to punch someone as badly as I did this man.

“Now,” the man said, rubbing his hands together. “Now, there is one more thing I need to address. And I suspect this in particular will upset you. The reason I left you in here was so you could have a moment, afterwards, to be upset. You may curse, yell, cry; whatever you need to do to get it all out. And once you’re done, you’re going to leave this car and show the other two how far obedience gets them. Understood?”

I swallowed.

“Address what?”

The man let in a deep breath in and out, before stilling his hands and holding them out, palms up. I stared at his hands; they big and strong looking.

“Give me your hands, please,” he said.

I blinked, looking up at him. If he had wanted to rape me, he had ample time when he was molesting me. What could this be? And how would it be more upsetting than how he had assaulted me minutes prior?

Reluctantly, I reached out with both of my hands, letting him reach up and grab them. A jolt of electricity tore through my body, my vision going white as the magic inside me seemed to explode. I felt heat and heard a loud humming sound. I pulled away from the man, taking my hands back, and yet still feeling my magic dance around my body like fire.

My vision came back, and I saw the way his hazel eyes glowed from within, reacting to my magic. I looked at my hands, my normal amber skin tone shining a white glow. I had never done this before. I turned back to the man, immediately aware that he had done this. He made my magic react to something.

No, he made my magic react to _his own_ magic.

As understanding dawned on me, his earlier words hit me. He didn’t want anyone to hear my “meltdown,” but the others would be able to hear it from outside the car. The same way I had heard Jacob still screaming and cursing from wherever he was. Meaning something had to be shielding the car; something soundproofed it.

“Make it stop,” I begged him, my body feeling like it was going to melt. “Please, make it stop.”

The man nodded, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were no longer glowing. And, thankfully, neither was I. The heat lingered, the smell of death starting to waft miserably. I looked at the man, trying to understand what happened.

“You can use magic,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“As can you,” he replied.

“How?” I asked. A real question this time. And a good one: as far as I and everyone in the city believed, Nationers couldn’t use magic. What the fuck was going on?

“Magic in the Nation is rare,” he said, lifting his hand and showing as it lit up and bounced between different florescent colors. “Not impossible; just rare.”

“Then why stay here?” I asked, still utterly confused. “There are so many practitioners in Faust City. Why not go there and—”

“Because I believe in the mission the Lord has given us,” the man interrupted, looking at me. “You will too, in time.”

I let out a heavy breath. That one wasn’t meant as a threat, but it sure did feel like one. The man moved then, taking out a set of matching, thin, golden bangle bracelets from his pocket. He set them on his lap before lifting his hands again, palms up.

“I’ll need your hands again.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought without his gun, this man was as harmless as a puppy. But he was just as dangerous with it than without it. The helplessness of the situation pulled my heart into an icy well.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “ _No_.”

The man let out a sigh. As if disappointed.

“That is the first and only time you will say that word to me,” he told me. “It’s unbecoming a surrogate wife.”

“Fuck you!” I snapped at him. Fuck all of this. I tried so hard to be calm—to be _good_ —and what did it get me? “Fuck that. Fuck you. And fuck— _fuck_!”

I brought a hand to my mouth, glancing at the door behind me.

“You’ve been so good,” he said, catching me. “I said you could have a tantrum as long as you stay in this car.”

“I’m not a child!” I snapped at him.

“Then don’t act like one,” he warned, his eyes flashing.

I took a deep breath in and out.

“How did you know I could use magic?”

“I could feel it from this car. Even after the younger ones were removed.”

A sob escaped my lips, and I put a hand over my mouth again as I tried to get control back. I looked back at the man, patiently watching me with his hands held out for me. Waiting for me to submit. To obey.

And that’s how this was going to end. The worst part of this whole thing was knowing that it would end with him getting his way. I had never felt this helpless before. Sure, some things happened outside my control, but this was on a completely different level. I met the man’s eyes, hating how imperturbable he looked. I nodded towards the bangles in his lap.

“They’re going to take my magic away,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, calmly. “They will.”

“What if I promise not to use my powers?” I negotiated. “You can use magic too! You can stop me even if I do.”

He gave me a genial smile. I wanted to slug him. I didn’t need his pity: I needed him to fucking listen to me! I blinked away tears, refusing to let it get that far.

“I won’t use them. I’ll swear on a Bible or whatever you want. You can kill me if I do. I promise I won’t use them! Please!”

Nothing. A stoic, pitying stare. I hated this man. I hated him with ever fiber of my being.

“This isn’t fair,” I told him, a few tears slipping.

“I know,” he said,

Another sob escaped, followed by more tears.

“I don’t want to do it.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“Then why are you making me do it?” I screamed at him.

“I’m not making you do anything,” he said, as if I had said the silliest thing. “You’re going to _choose_ to submit to this.”

“And where do I have the choice in this?” I continued to yell at him. “If I don’t, you’ll just _force_ me. And probably hurt me when you do!”

“You can fight,” he said. “Fighting is a choice. As is submission.”

“There’s no point in fighting if the result is going to be the same no matter what.”

The man smiled. “Not everyone agrees. That’s why it’s _your_ _choice_ whether you’d wish to obey, or fight.”

I blinked, thinking of Jacob. We were both going to same place: did it matter whether or not we fought before we got there?

“I don’t want to do this,” I repeated, shaking my head. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want you to hurt me. I don’t—please, I don’t want to lose my magic. _Please_.”

The man didn’t answer. He just quietly watched me fight through it. I wiped my tears away; my pleas were falling on deaf ears.

“Is that the point?” I asked him. “You’re going to ask things from me that I don’t want to do, but I’m going to do them anyway?”

The man’s eyebrows raised, as if impressed.

“Very astute,” he said.

I frowned, looking at his outstretched hands.

“How long would you sit there waiting for me?” It didn’t matter; I was just delaying the inevitable.

“As long as it took. I believe you’re worth waiting for.”

I shook my head, not wanting to hear that. I especially didn’t want how my face heated up at that last remark. I lifted my hands.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said one last time.

“I know,” he repeated one last time.

And before I could delay any longer, I reached forward and placed my hands in his. Without meaning to, tears started pouring down my face, the tears blurring my vision as the man brought my hands up to his lips and kissed them.

“Such a good boy,” he praised as he let go of one of my hands to grab one of the bracelets in his lap. I held my hand in front of him as he pulled it open. “I knew you could do it.”

“Please,” I sobbed, watching as he brought the bangle around my wrist. “Please, please, _please_.”

The bracelet clamped shut, and the hum of my magic completely disappeared. It was gone. My sobs hit me harder, shaking my entire body. I brought my hands to my face, wiping at tears and rubbing my eyes. I felt his hand on my unshackled wrist, and he pulled it away from my face.

“I need to do this one too,” he said, his voice gentle.

“I don’t want to!” I cried, letting him take my other hand. I watched in vain as he snapped the other bracelet on my other hand. “Please. I don’t want to!”

“I know,” he said, grabbing my hands and rubbing circles on the back of them. “But you did it anyway. I’m so proud of you.”

And with that, he pulled me into a strong, firm hug. I melted, happily crying into his shoulder as I thought about everything I just lost. My family. Dr. Gus and Dr. Bev. My career. My years of research. Traveling the globe. My magic. My freedom.

In just a moment, I lost everything. None of it was fair. And all I got for it was making some probably-rapist whose name I didn’t even know proud of me. What a fucking dream come true.

As my tears subsided, the man rummaged through his pockets for a handkerchief. A murderer and rapist carries a handkerchief. I couldn’t make this shit up. I cleaned myself up, and let him guide me through some calming breaths so I didn’t completely freak once he led me out of the car.

He opened the door, sliding out and turning with another outstretched hand for me. I glanced at Gus and Bev, wishing none of this had happened. They didn’t deserve this. I took the man’s hand and left the car, the sun high and hot on my face. The other men, most missing their masks by now, cheered the man as he pulled me out of the car. A few quickly moved to the other cars to pile in while three were at the car next to us, using rope to tie up Jacob and Serenity up.

Poor Jacob had a large bruise on his cheeks and smaller ones all up and down his arm. He seemed to be looking off in the distance, not registering anything. Serenity was frowned up as she leaned against the car while one of the men worked on her.

The man started to lead me towards them, and it suddenly hit me that our one-on-one was done. So I pulled on his hand, getting his attention. He opened his mouth, probably to chide me, but I beat him to the punch.

“What’s your name?” I asked. “You never said it.”

His eyebrows raised as he turned to me. “My mother raised me that it was in poor taste to ask someone’s name before offering your own.”

I blinked at him.

“I never heard that.”

The man didn’t answer. I shifted feet.

“Sorry. I’m Andres,” I said. “What’s your name?”

The man gave me a wide, attractive smile.

“Evan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was an intense chapter to write and edit. Phew! 
> 
> Hello all. I want to start off with some apologies. First off for being so late with replying to comments. I took the time to get caught up today, and I feel so good about it! Thank you for your patience! And please know that comments will be replied to much quicker from now on! 
> 
> Next apology is the last chapter had death, and I didn't give a warning. I do have tags, but I like to give warnings of potentially upsetting stuff at the beginning just to be safe. Again, I'm sorry for not remembering to tag it. I remember I posted that chapter late at night when I was dead tired and needed to go to bed for work. So, yeah, that's on me. A million apologies!
> 
> March is here, and with it, I feel renewed energy. I'm a Pisces rising, so this is my element! Lol. Or something. 
> 
> I don't have much to say, except I'm going to try to bang out a LOT of chapters this week. We'll see how it goes. If it ends up well, then you guys might be able to expect a bomb. 
> 
> Also, if you guys are looking for any updates on Lucca's story after escaping the Nation, you'll be excited to know that I'll be uploading a chapter either on Wednesday or Thursday in Necromancer's Delight (that was a stupid title and I hate myself for it lol). So look out for it. 
> 
> Oh, and a new update. In the first chapter, I said that I would be done with this world after this story, but the lie detector test determined that was a lie! Writing this story has actually made me excited to work on two more stories for this, so I'm going to do it. The two stories I originally planned. I think I have a better idea of how to go about it, especially after this one sets up some stuff. I think that's what the other stories needed; one more story in between it to set it up. 
> 
> So, that'll be coming up eventually. lol. 
> 
> Until next time! Oh, and please please please please please leave comments on what you think of this story so far! Merci and arigatou!


	4. Chapter 4

“So let me get this straight,” Serenity said, leaning back in her chair, glaring at everyone across the table. “You want to argue that _I_ have to go back because I’m pregnant, Jacob has to go back and get pregnant because he terminated his pregnancy, and Andres has to go back because you fuckers failed to get him pregnant the first time? So we’re damned if we kept our pregnancy, damned if we got rid of it, and damned if we were never pregnant in the first place?”

“The logic here is, well, asinine,” Jenn said, shaking her head. “We need something everyone can get behind.”

I let out a heavy breath, glancing at Evan. His eyes were on his cohorts: Declan and Michaela. Declan sat across from Jacob, right next to Evan. He was shorter than Evan, and olive skinned in a southern European way. His sandy hair was shaggy, his wired rimmed glasses perched on his nose for once. Probably to appear smarter than his muscular body would have one assume. Michaela—Mike—sat straight backed as usual, her dark hair cut in short style with an undercut. Her lips were in a tight line as she listened to Serenity list all the ways she refused to go back to her.

It was all a lot, and I could already feel a headache coming on.

“They took a lot with them when they left,” their lawyer, Joseph Hale, said, looking gruff.

“We left with only the clothes on our backs,” I snapped.

“We mean in terms of your personal value,” Mike chimed in, gently.

“Our value as your breeding cows?” Serenity asked her.

“Ren, honey—”

“It’s fucking _Serenity_!” Serenity almost shouted, her voice bouncing on the soundproof walls. “It’s four fucking syllables! It’s not that fucking hard!”

Mike watched her with the same stoic patience that Evan projected. They came from the same school of how to husband their wives. Once enough time passed for it to be polite for her to say something, Mike tried again.

“Serenity, you need to mind your blood pressure,” she chided.

“My blood pressure would be fine if you weren’t here stressing me out.”

“Let’s try to keep this civil,” Jenn said, attempting to steer the conversation back. She looked at Joseph. “What exactly are your clients’ demands? If we start there, maybe we can find a good middle ground. What is their ideal situation?”

Joseph pulled something out of his briefcase, clearing his throat. Jacob tensed next to me as Joseph began.

“First and foremost, my clients request for Andres Reyes to return to the Willows with his husband to fulfil his role as Evan Reyes’ surrogate wife. Upon arrival, he will submit to a Flooding Ceremony—”

“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head.

“He will submit to a Flooding Ceremony,” Joseph continued with a consternated frown at me, “so that he may take with child immediately.”

“No,” I repeated.

The lawyer ignored me and continued.

“Serenity Thoms will carry her child to term, and upon birth, submit her child to the Willows to be raised by the baby’s deputy father, Mike Thoms.”

“You’d have to kill me first,” Serenity snarled.

“And finally,” Joseph said, shaking his head, “Jacob Jordan will spend three days with his husband, Declan Jordan, the day he ovulates and the days before and after, in which Jacob will submit to being impregnated to make up for the pregnancy he terminated. This will continue until he conceives a child. Afterwards, he will carry the child to term, and also submit the child to the Willows to be raised by the father.”

Jacob looked at Declan in horror and shook his head.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t.”

“All of these demands are rather egregious,” Jenn said.

“You said best case scenario,” Joseph reminded her.

“Quite. My clients’ demands are simple; they wish to have their marriages annulled in the Nation, as they are in Faust City. Serenity demands Michaela sign over all parental rights, and for none of your clients to attempt to contact my clients again. Walk away from this and move on.”

“Absolutely not,” Declan said, looking at Jacob. “You need to come home.”

Jacob just shook his head, at a loss for words.

“There needs to be an understanding,” I said, speaking up, “if this is supposed to end with us coming to an agreement. None of us are going back. So if you three can’t accept that, we can leave now and just get on with the next step.”

Declan and Mike glanced at Evan. I watched him as well, daring him to challenge me. He met my gaze, letting just enough time pass to pretend he considered it.

“If _you_ come home,” he said to me, because no one else was in the room, “we’ll ask nothing from the other two.”

I didn’t have to look at Declan to know he wasn’t happy with that. Nor did I have to guess that Jacob was holding his breath for my response. This was the very reason I hated Evan. He was good at this: making me look like the unreasonable one. The selfish one. The monster.

“Am I supposed to believe that I’ll be enough?” I asked him. “I’m the oldest, and you couldn’t get me pregnant no matter how hard you tried. Why force me back over the others?”

“Because my father is sick.”

The silence crashed through the room like a wave. I felt my own heart drop, knowing that Evan was serious. I glanced at Jacob and Serenity, whose faces were somber and sober. They knew what this meant. Why Evan would push this.

“You should drop this, then,” I said to him, standing. “Be with your family right now instead of fighting a losing battle.”

“Andres!” Jenn called after me as I left the room.

I slammed the door behind me, ignoring the baffled looks from our family. My mother was on me in seconds, walking towards me and reaching out to touch me.

“Are you done already, _mijo_?” she asked me, inches from me.

I shook my head, moving away from her.

“Bathroom,” I said, heading down the hall and turning before anyone could stop me.

Only once I was out of sight did I take off in a sprint down the hallway, finding a stairway. I raced down them, skipping two and three at a time until I was on the ground level. Ignoring the door to the main hallway, I pushed out the exit door, the sun a welcomed gift after that dark room. It warmed my body, tasting sweet as I rushed over to a line of bushes; I was at the back of the building, which was great since there were no reporters.

Meaning no one saw me as I collapsed to the ground and puked all over the neat bushes. My vision went blurry, and I wasn’t sure how long I was there before my heaves turned dry. I wiped my mouth, reaching in my pocket for my phone. I should just text my mother that I left, and then open a portal home.

“It’d be easier if you didn’t pretend you didn’t care.”

I froze at Evan’s voice, my back going straight. I hadn’t heard him—heard anyone—come outside after me. I didn’t feel him. But here he was, his voice close. I took a few breaths before sitting up and turning. He was right there, a mere couple of feet away, standing over me and watching me with one of his calm, gentle expressions.

Always so poised.

“What do you want?” I spat.

Instead of answering, he moved, taking a few steps before kneeling down in front of me. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief to match his white outfit. He handed it to me. I didn’t take it.

“It’d be easier if you didn’t fight,” he finally said when the silence went on a bit too long.

“‘Fighting is a choice,’” I said, moving to stand up.

Evan grabbed my arm, stopping me in a kneel. I froze, my stomach tightening and fluttering at his touch. It felt so familiar and so foreign at the same time. A welcome and a repulsion. Evan met my eye, a lifetime between us.

“As is submission,” he repeated.

“I tried submission. I will fight this time.”

Evan let go of me, the ghost of his touch still lingering. I didn’t move though. Instead, we both sat there on our knees for a moment, not looking at each other and listening to the birds chirping and the distant sounds of the city around us. I knew I should get up and walk away, but I wasn’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

“He’s dying,” Evan said, his voice cracking on that last word.

I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

“That means I have to step in. Step up.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“I need my wife by my side in order to lead.”

“I cannot replace your mother,” I said, opening my eyes and meeting his.

I shouldn’t have done that. Both looking at him, and admitting that insecurity. Evan was nearing thirty, but he looked so young; like a teenager trying to pretend to be a man. His stubble a parody of what it should be, his tired eyes lacking any wisdom lines.

And I had only been at the Willows barely half a year. Even now, a year hadn’t passed since we were married. Evan was too young to replace his father. I was too young in everything to be expected to replace his mother. We were too young a couple to lead anyone. I shook my head, anxiety rattling my nerves.

“My mother will help you,” Evan tried, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Your mother hates me,” I said with a dry chuckle. “You should just leave me be and marry some girl from the Willows who can be everything you need her to be.”

“I love _you_.”

“You can love anyone else.”

“I _want_ you.”

And because he wanted me, that meant he should have me? And somehow I was the selfish one for not wanting to go back? This was stupid. All of this was stupid. I scoffed, looking at a bird dancing around the bushes. I was home, finally, and he wouldn’t leave me at peace. Even when I was supposed to be safe, I had to think of him. Worry about him. Fear him.

I hated him.

And he had the nerve to say he loves me.

“Why?” I asked, my voice sounding small. I turned and looked back at him, seeing his eyes widen a bit, as if in shock. I wondered how terrifying my expression must have been to get that reaction. So I pressed on. “Why do you want me? There is nothing special about me. You have surrogates at the Willows. You have women. You could easily marry one of them and have them pregnant before anything happens to your father. So why—”

“Does it bother you,” Evan asked, interrupting me, his face scrunched in consternation. “Does it bother you how difficult it was to get you pregnant?”

I blinked at him.

“That was your takeaway from what I just said?”

“Answer my question.”

“Your question was only to distract from mine.”

Evan let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, they were filled with determination.

“I love you and I want you because I do. I don’t need some silly reason to love you, but that doesn’t seem good enough for you. Which is why your little tirade just now worries me. Do you think so lowly of yourself that you believe people need a _reason_ to love you? Do you think you’re unworthy of love without a specific reason?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. I felt like I was back in the Willows with all this talk of love. Why did people in the Willows care so much about it?

That was a silly question: I knew why.

“You’ll get pregnant soon enough,” Evan said definitively. “These things take time.”

“We were trying for months,” I reminded him.

“It can take a few months after an IUD. Five, six, seven months even.”

I froze.

“Then why did I—” I cut myself off, flashbacks of that last month in the Willows hitting me fiercely. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember it.

“It’s not always about the end result,” Evan said when it became clear I wasn’t finishing that thought. He still knew what I was asking though. “There was a lot you needed to learn. To experience—”

I stood up then, not wanting to hear anymore. It had been easier to put up with everything knowing the reason behind it: getting me pregnant. But to know that the most traumatic experience I’d been through at the Willows was supposed to be some childish learning experience instead of a genuine effort to that goal made me feel sick again.

I took a few steps back to my earlier mess and immediately added to it. Not even a full second went by before I felt Evan’s hand on my back. I pushed him away, heaving again and coughing. I didn’t move, not even when my heaves turned dry, feeling miserable and horrible with nothing to make any of this better.

“ _Mi sol_ ,” Evan said, his hand on my back again.

The disgust and anger I’d been trying to hold back came rushing forward like a heat wave. Tired of keeping it at bay, I let it tear through me, and I turned on Evan, pushing the energy until it physically shoved him back. With a jolt, Evan’s body jerked back, eventually slamming against the side of the building.

Evan hit it hard with a surprised groan before falling to the ground. He looked up at me, his eyes angry and glowing. I let the heat of my magic continue swirling, wanting him to attack me. Wanting him to give me a reason to lash out entirely. To hurt him more. To finally repay some of the hurt he put me through.

But Evan didn’t give it to me. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and standing. Once he was straight, he opened them, his magic gone and restrained. He let his breath out, meeting my own fiery glare.

“There was no resolution, so our lawyers advised us to try again in a couple of weeks,” he said, walking over to me. I tensed, though all he did was grab my hand, and force his handkerchief in my grasp. “I’d rather we settle this like adults, but if you insist on fighting, know that I will do whatever is necessary to cull it. And the next time we have this conversation, you will choose submission.”

I released a wave of energy to where our hands were connected—to electrocute him. But before it reached him, Evan pulled away and turned to leave. I glared at him until he went back inside, repeating his words in my head again and again. Until they made me sick enough to turn around and finish puking my guts up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Yesterday was such a wonky day, and I lost track of time. I remember I had this issue last time. I worry about what time of the day to upload because I feel like I'll likely get more views later in the evenings/night, but it'd be easier for me to start the habit of waking up on Sunday mornings and uploading as the first thing I do. Hmmm. I think I'll try the latter for a few weeks and see what happens. The problem is once I start my day, it's hard for me to stop to edit and upload. It's silly, I know. I'm working on it. 
> 
> In other words; I'll do better! 
> 
> But here we are. I will be uploading the last of my little prequels series (whatever that was lol) either today or tomorrow. I have to see how I feel after I edit it lol. 
> 
> When I initially wrote this chapter, I didn't expect for things to go down like this. So I was a bit hesitant once I was in the middle of it. But when it was just Andres and Evan, things got smoother. Their dynamic will be an interesting one. In this timeline in particular because it will be coming off of months of Andres basically being agreeable to anything Evan wants. I think this dynamic where Evan expects that and Andres is in a position where he can refuse will lead to some interesting moments. 
> 
> I wasn't sure where I was going with Serenity's personality, too, but after this chapter, writing her got so much easier. I honestly expected the chapters at the Willows to be the easier ones for me to write, but after this chapter, the current timeline chapters got really interesting. I think you all will agree; these chapters won't just be little fillers that have you anxious for the Willows. Especially when some fun new characters make an appearance/return. Muahahaha. 
> 
> All in due time, of course. 
> 
> Happy manic monday! Howl at the super moon tonight for me! After leaving comments of course. :P


	5. Chapter 5

The dull thud of Jacob kicking the car door was starting to grate on me. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he twisted himself in his seatbelt, his hands tied tightly behind him. He used both feet to kick at the door with as much might as he could manage in his position. He wasn’t making any leeway: our kidnappers had been smart enough to put the child lock on the doors, and we were all tied up on top of being strapped in with seatbelts.

We weren’t going anywhere.

Not unless the car drove us along, which it did. There was nothing but open road ahead of us; I wasn’t sure if we were still in Louisiana, but we were at least off the highways. We’d been driving long enough for my stomach to start growling and to feel that I needed to pee. Serenity watched the trees going by, magically ignoring Jacob’s little tantrum.

“Is he ever going to stop?” one of our kidnappers said from the front seat, looking back at us.

“Nah, let him go,” the one driving said, smiling as he glanced at us in the rearview. “The more his misbehaves, the more I can punish him later.”

“Fuck you!” Jacob spat at him as he kept kicking.

The man laughed while his companion rolled his eyes before turning back around. They started another conversation about something stupid and I used that to turn to Jacob.

“Stop that,” I told him as he ignored me. “You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“We have to get out,” Jacob said between kicks. He really was trying his hardest; I could see dents and scuff marks along the door. He was nowhere near strong enough to actually kick the door out, but he was at least doing a bit of damage. “Wherever they’re taking us is going to be hell and I’d rather die than go.”

“They won’t let you die. All you’re doing is making things worse for yourself.”

“The worst has already happened.”

I paused, remembering the desperation in Jacob’s screams. Once they had gotten us in the car, Jacob had been red-faced and bruised. The way he was disassociating made it obvious what had happened to him. I was pretty sure the sandy-haired driver was the one who had pulled Jacob out of the car; his voice sounded like him.

“They can still do worse,” I said to Jacob, trying again. “They _will_ do worse.”

Jacob stopped in a huff, turning a hot glare at me.

“He wants to put a baby in me!” he hissed.

I nodded. “I know.”

“You know and you want me to just sit here and wait for them to do it?”

He sounded so angry. So hostile. I let out a long breath.

“I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“And I’m saying they already did!”

“Jacob!” I snapped, struggling to keep my voice down. “You’re IQ is higher than Einstein _and_ Steven Hawkins, you’re barely nineteen and in your last year of a doctorate program, and your dissertation is changing the way we think about DNA.”

“What, are you flattering me?” Jacob asked, his brow scrunching.

“No, what I’m saying is you’re too fucking smart to be acting this fucking stupid!”

Jacob huffed and looked away. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting normally, and glared out the window.

“We’re all scared,” I continued. “But we have to be smart about this.”

Jacob didn’t respond.

“There’s something up there,” Serenity said, grabbing our attention.

We all looked forward, the road turning to what looked like an entrance to a campground or something. There was a large white sign with _Eden's Willows_ written in beautiful, blue calligraphy. Just past it was a large, metal gate and a guard booth with another man in white inside. I noticed his gun on his back immediately.

We slowed as we came up to it, the driver rolling down his window.

“Catch anything?” the guard asked.

“Three,” the driver said, jerking his head in our direction.

“Not bad,” the guard said with a laugh. He walked back to the little station, messing with something before a loud buzzing sound echoed around us as the gates opened.

We were moving again, slowly as we went down a short road surrounded by trees. It led into a large opening where there were rows of cars parked in what looked like an open field. The driver found a place to park next to a small sport car. The other SUVs filled in where they could.

“Welcome home,” the driver said, hopping out of the car.

“What’s up with all these cars?” Serenity asked aloud.

Jacob opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when the door opened next to him. The driver smiled at him, moving to unbuckle him. The other door opened, another man in black there to unbuckle Serenity.

“Line up against the back of the car,” the driver said while he worked, getting the seatbelt around Jacob and moving to guide him out of the car. “This is a peaceful place, so no cursing or shouting please.”

Jacob let out a derisive scoff as he hopped out of the car. The man moved on to me, quickly unbuckling me and helping me to the door so I could jump out myself. A bunch of the men were on this side with duffle bags at their feet. They quietly and quickly stripped, switching their black sweaters and pants for white, linen pants and white tunic-style or button up shirts.

That was almost as creepy as when they were all in black with ski masks.

“Against the back,” the driver said, pushing me towards the back of the car where Jacob and Serenity were already standing.

As were Evan, already changed in white, with another man in white at his side. Once I was settled on the end, Evan nodded at the driver, dismissing him to go change.

“You’ve been rescued and brought to the Willows,” Evan said, as if that meant anything to us. Also, rescued? “We’re a tight knit community of God-fearing Christians who—”

“Oh, my god, this is a cult,” Serenity said.

Evan looked at her, evenly, before meeting the eye of the man next to her. He nodded, and the man walked over to Serenity. I felt my stomach clench as the man reached forwarded and grabbed her chin. Then, before any of us could make a stink about it, he popped her on the mouth once. Serenity let out a little yelp, mostly from shock it seemed, before the man let her go and resumed his place next to Evan.

“It’s very rude to interrupt a man when he is talking,” Evan calmly told her. “Please be mindful of that in the future.”

Serenity glanced at us before nodding.

“There will be a learning curve,” Evan continued, acknowledging her acquiescence with a raise of his chin. “Everyone on the compound understands that and will help you through it. As I was saying earlier, we are a community here. A family. We rely on each other and help each other. In time, you will each be expected to be reliable and helpful as well. Any questions so far?”

“Are we going to be allowed to call home?” Jacob asked.

“You _are_ home.”

I could see something break in Jacob then. The fight left him, his shoulders sagging as his misty eyes looked off to the side. My heart ached watching him fully understand what was happening to us. What this all meant.

“Can we at least just let our families know we’re alive?” Jacob tried, his so small.

Evan watched him, that same analyzing stare I was all too familiar with now.

“Once you have been fully integrated into the community, and it’s been decided safe for you to do so, you may reach out to your family.”

Jacob closed his eyes, tears falling.

“I’m the only one my mother has,” he said, opening his eyes and turning them to Evan. Pleading. “My father died when I was a baby. I don’t have any siblings. She _only_ has me. Please.”

I let out a shaky breath, trying not to think of my own parents. They had each other, sure, but I was also their only child. What if years went by before I would be allowed to let them know I was alive? They would have to go that long without knowing what happened to me, wondering if I was dead.

“In that case,” Evan said, his voice gentle, “it would be imperative for you to try to integrate as quickly as you can so that your mother won’t have to wait too long to hear from you.”

Jacob collapsed to the ground, sobbing openly now. Evan watched him for a second before blinking away.

“Declan!” he called out.

The driver jogged over, decked out in his white linens now, looking at Jacob on the ground and then at Evan.

“You made him cry?” he asked, his tone annoyingly playful.

“You’ve been dealing with him, right? He’s not finished with his tantrums yet. He’ll need to stay behind before checking in.”

“I’ll stay with him,” the driver—Declan—said, pulling a switch blade out of his pocket.

He walked over to Jacob, kneeling in front of him, He pulled Jacob up so that he was leaning on him; if his arms weren’t tied up, he would have looked like he was hugging Declan. Declan then reached behind Jacob, slicing at the rope binding him.

Jacob did hug him then, wrapping his arms around Declan’s neck as his sobs got heavier.

“We do not bring people in kicking and screaming,” Evan said over Jacob’s sobs, pulling his own switchblade out from his pocket. “So if you need to have one last tantrum, like your friend, you can stay behind for a bit and have it. Otherwise, turn around please.”

I glanced at Serenity, who met my gaze. She looked unsure and uneasy. I couldn’t blame her. I gave her a small nod, unsure what she would take from it exactly, before turning around. It wasn’t long before I felt hands on my wrists. I kept still as Evan cut through them, relieved once I was free.

I turned around as Evan put the knife away, looking down at Jacob still on the ground. Serenity was rubbing her wrists. Evan grabbed my attention by grabbing my arm.

“This way,” he said, starting to pull me away.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. I nodded towards Jacob. “We’re just leaving him here?”

Evan glanced at him.

“He needs a moment to process. He’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Do you need a moment?” Evan paused, looking at me. “I thought you were done with your tantrums.”

I blinked. “No,” I said, my eyes turning to Jacob again. “I’m fine.”

Evan leaned in, his voice low.

“You need to show him how to do this.”

I nodded, hating myself.

“I know.”

“You said you could do this.”

Another nod.

“I can. I will.”

Evan nodded, once, before walking away. I gave Jacob once last glance, quietly fuming while the driver—Declan—rubbed his back as Jacob cried before I turned to follow. The other men had gone on ahead, as had whoever had taken Serenity. We weaved through the cars, most of them shiny, clean, and modern. There were a few SUVs that looked less scary than the black ones that had taken us, as well as a few trucks and a trailer in one corner.

Once we got past the cars, we were at the mouth of a large property, acres and acres long. I paused, looking at all the group of buildings just to the left, farmland in the distance complete with penned pigs, goats, and chickens. Straight ahead was what looked like some sort of center, marked by a large platform that could probably count as a stage. And not far from it was the largest table I’d ever seen in my life: it looked like it could go on for miles.

There were many people walking around; men in the white linen pants and shirts, some with tunics that fell past their knees, and women with long dresses that flew behind them as they walked past. Serenity was standing by two young women her age in long dresses, a tall woman talking to them all and pointing around.

The young women wore the same white dresses as everyone else, both a deep mahogany completion with braids down their back. The tall woman looked weird next to them; she was wearing the same pants and shirts as the men, and her dark hair was cut short instead of long and down her back the way I noticed all the women were.

“And the kitchens are over at that building,” the tall woman was saying as we approached, pointing at a long, red building behind the table.

“We work there!” one of the younger women said. “It’s lots of fun, and busy so the days go by faster!”

“Why are you still here?” Evan asked as we approached.

The tall woman nodded at us. “Waiting on you.”

“Or did Cara and Tara hold you up?” Evan said, shaking his head at the girls.

“We didn’t mean to hold you up!” the other girl said. Looking at them both, I could see that they were clearly twins. “Mike said you got three this time, and we just wanted to see them!”

“And did Mike tell you that before or after you stopped her?”

“After!” one of the twins said. Then she seemed to realize her mistake and looked guilty. “Oh, you’re trying to figure out which one of us to fault.”

“I guess it was us then,” the other twin said, frowning. She looked at Evan. “Please don’t tell Dad. We’ve been doing better at not asking too many questions.”

“Did we miss lunch?” Evan asked, pulling a pocket watch out of, well, his pocket. “Is that why you two aren’t in the kitchens?”

“We needed more eggs,” one of them said. “We were supposed to go to the coop to get them.”

“So the kitchen has been waiting all this time for you two to get back?”

The girls looked at each other guiltily.

“We’ll just go get them and get back to the kitchens,” one of them said as the other inched away.

“Thank you, ladies,” Evan said, smiling at them.

“Thank you, Evan,” the two women said in tandem before racing off towards the farm area.

“Let’s go,” Evan said, leading them off towards the bunch of buildings off to the west. “Mike, you gotta shut that down. You know those two will talk your ear off.”

“I know,” the tall woman—Mike, apparently—said, matching strides with Evan. “They were just so curious and it seemed mean to just tell them to go away.”

“That’s why they get away with it.”

Serenity matched pace with me as we followed them. She leaned, keeping her voice low.

“This place is a literal, actual cult,” she said, looking around. “You see how everyone is so happy and smiling? And that table? The girls said that everyone on the compound eats there at every meal together. Every day.”

“Isn’t the Nation a cult itself?” I muttered, suddenly irritated. We’d been kidnapped by a cult? What the actual fuck?

“It is, but I’m struggling with some of the rules,” Serenity continued, as she looked around. “Like, this one? I’m pretty sure she’s the one who pulled me out of the car. I recognized her voice. Which is funny because I thought her voice was high pitched for a man, but it’s really just rather low for a woman.

“But see how she’s wearing pants and a shirt while all the other women are in dresses? And her hair is short while all theirs is long? She was kinda flirting with me earlier, so I think she’s a lesbian.”

“This place has lesbians?” I asked.

That didn’t make sense either. I knew enough about the Nation to know how they treated women. How they treated people like me. How they treated homosexuals. And none of it was pleasant.

“Maybe,” Serenity answered, discreetly pointing at something. “And see the men wearing the pants but they have long tunics? Intersex. That’s going to be your uniform.”

I nodded, noticing a few. They all had long hair, though it was often up in buns, high puffs, or large afros.

“But the weirdest part is that I don’t think they’re doing the surrogacy thing here,” Serenity continued. “I saw a man kiss one earlier before they split up. The Nation doesn’t treat their surrogates like that, right?”

“No,” I told her. “They don’t.”

“So this place plays by different rules. They’re still going to use us as baby making machines, but things are a bit different than how the Nation typically operators. Where’s Jacob?”

“Probably still crying.”

Serenity sighed. “Whatever’s about to happen, I don’t want to do this.”

“I know.”

“Here we go,” Evan announced as they approached a long, white building. “You’ll get registered and set up here.”

I was noticing that most of the buildings were built sideways instead of up. This building was no exception; I was sure there was only one floor and more hallways than I could count. It was still elevated; we had to climb up stairs to get to the door. And in front of the doors was a woman in white, a sheer pink shawl over her shoulders. She was dark skinned with curls down her back, a somber and serious look on her face as she watched them all approach. On one side, she had a short girl with her, and on the other, a young man that was intersex if Serenity’s earlier observation was accurate.

“Good morning,” the woman said, her face not changing. “And welcome to Eden’s Willows. God has called you to a great purpose. We’re all so happy to help you fulfil that.”

I blinked. If I had any doubts that this was a cult before—which I hadn’t—I didn’t now. We were in a literal, actual cult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone commented: Welcome to the Nation! Lol. 
> 
> I don't have much to share; I'm literally going THROUGH it right now, so I might just do a post bomb (against my better judgement, lol) this week to help me feel better. 
> 
> This also means please leave me comments so I feel better. I get this chapter is kinda eh but tomorrow's will be better lol. Probably.


	6. Chapter 6

I wanted to protest when they separated us, but Evan was watching too closely when the woman instructed the young man and woman behind her to walk us to “intake.” The main hallway branched off in four different directions: I was taken left while Serenity went right. The woman and Evan stayed in the hall, whispering to each other. When I took one last glance back, the woman was watching me, a visible frown on her lips.

“Is she important?” I asked the boy, noting the gold and brown stripes on the wall. What an odd design. “That woman?”

“Who? Mother?” he asked, writing on his clipboard. He had the slightest bit of an accent I couldn’t place. He was tall and skinny, his hair in a large, well maintained afro.

Oh, whoops. “Sorry. I didn’t realize she was your mother.”

The boy laughed as though I’d said something silly.

“No, she’s not _my_ mother,” he said, smiling at me. “We call her Mother. She’s like our matriarch.”

Matriarch? So a woman was in charge? How? Serenity was right: these people played by different rules.

“That’s pretty progressive having a woman in charge.”

The boy laughed again, writing something else down in his chart.

“We’re not really fit to be in charge, are we?”

I didn’t answer. Was that a trick question? It was rare for women to be figure heads in the Nation. The few that existed were infertile and married with surrogates birthing their heirs. The Nation made it very clear where a woman’s role was: even the ones who couldn’t make families on their own were still expected to complete that role somehow.

Why would I assume any other place in the Nation behaved differently?

“Mother is sort of a model for us,” the boy continued when I didn’t say anything. “Father, her husband, is our spiritual guide. He leads, she submits. They’re the perfect picture of the Lord’s destiny for us.”

The boy’s tone was wistful as he spoke, an odd longing there. He wanted that. Genuinely.

“Are you inte—um, a surrogate?” I asked him. It seemed like a rude question.

“Yes. We’re the only ones allowed down this hall, so don’t worry.”

I didn’t know what that had to do with anything, so I just nodded. We passed pictures—portraits—of families and serious looking men along the way. Not all of the families had women standing by the men as wives.

“Are surrogates allowed to be wives here?” I asked.

“Yes. You’re not wrong, really, in the sense that some of our ways are seen as rather progressive.”

“Is it recognized by the Nation?”

“Yes. As long as we’re still meeting our quotas, the Nation has no objections to a small community who would rather marry their surrogates than use them as broodmares. The end result is the same. Though some of our men are hoping to use our community as an example for surrogate wives being widespread. The current system is brutal. I’m so glad I didn’t have to go through it.”

“So you were born here?”

“No. I was rescued. Like you.”

I wasn’t fucking rescued.

“Ah,” the boy said, turning down a hall. “I’m supposed to be asking you questions. I’m Zeke, by the way.”

“Really?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“I was baptized Ezekiel,” he said, grinning. “I’m originally from Lagos. I was a child when I was rescued, so I don’t really remember the name my mother gave me.”

That sounded like a lie if I ever heard one. But he probably told himself it was better this way, so I didn’t press it. I wondered if they would do the same with me: my name wasn’t the epitome of Anglo-Saxon culture.

“Is your name pronounced _Ahn-dray_ or _Ahn-dres_ ,” Zeke asked, rolling the r in my name easily.

“The second one,” I told him.

“What’s your current surname?”

Current. That was an odd way of putting it.

“De la Vega.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Hmm. Have you ever had your fertility evaluated?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Like, they run tests to estimate how many children you should be able to have safely. It’s good if it’s at least three. One to replace yourself, your husband, and an extra one to add to the population.”

“No,” I snapped, looking away. The Nation actually did that?

Zeke nodded. “Once you’re settled in, that will have to be done. Your last name is De la Vega? Do you speak Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“Well, not anymore of course.”

“And why not?” I said, getting more and more irritated.

Zeke shrugged, writing something down on the clipboard.

“It’s important for everyone to speak the same language. If some people can only speak English and others are speaking Spanish or French or Swahili, it leads to division.”

“You guys are pretty mixed race here,” I challenged. “And you have people from other countries. How is that not divisive?”

“Because we’re all bonded by our faith,” Zeke said easily. “By our lives here. You’ll understand once you’re settled.”

“And what if I don’t want to settle?” I pushed. This was completely insane. “What if I don’t want to go along with any of this?”

“I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to.”

Zeke stopped in front of what was likely a door. There was a gold door frame with a stark white door. Zeke pressed his hand against a white panel next to the door, and it slid opened.

“Hand signature security systems? Very progressive.”

Zeke laughed as he gestured for me to go inside.

“We’re not Amish.”

I was momentarily blinded by the white when I walked in. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw I was in a large bathroom with rectangle shower stalls lining the walls. The glass doors surrounding them left no room for any privacy. In the middle of the room was a large table with cabinets underneath in a dark stone. Benches lined the table in a setup that felt similar to the long table outside.

“Do you have any skin issues?” Zeke asked, moving to the table.

“I have eczema,” I said, looking behind me. The door was closed. “My fingerprints won’t work, right?”

“Nope. You’re trapped,” the boy said lightheartedly. As if it was a joke. He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a towel, a washcloth, and a shower caddy. He looked through the toiletries in the caddy. “Do you have anxiety issues?”

I blinked. Where did that come from?

“Not particularly,” I said, shrugging.

“Hmm. It’s pretty common with rescues, so you don’t have to feel bad about it.”

“I don’t. I just—” I shook my head. “Why do you think I do?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Zeke said, standing and placing everything on the countertop.

“Is asking questions a bad thing?” I remembered the twins outside.

_We’ve been doing better at not asking too many questions._

“A question here or there isn’t a bad thing, but it’s unnecessary. You have plenty of time to learn.”

“But I’m twenty-five. That means I have to get started right away, right? Do I really have a lot of time to _adjust_?”

Zeke gave me a sympathetic smile. “A lot of this will have to be learnt by doing. All the basics are what intake is for, though. So just relax and let us do our jobs, okay?”

I took a deep breath in and out, feeling anxious—truly and surely anxious.

“Okay,” I said, finally nodding. I started to ask another question, but stopped myself and waited.

“Submission is the hardest thing you’ll have to learn,” Zeke said, writing something down on the clipboard. “But it’s worth it once you get it down. I promise.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I just nodded.

“Good. Now, I need you to take your clothes off. Once you’re done showering, you will have to get into these.” He lifted some folded up, white clothes.

Before I could protest, he turned to the nearest stall and turned on the water. He used the white panel next to it to adjust the temperature. I started to strip, pausing once my hands touched my jeans. I knew I wasn’t going to see these clothes again. I didn’t really care about them, but it was just the fact that this place obviously had a uniform. And blue jeans with a v-neck tee wasn’t it.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke said, walking over.

“I don’t know,” I said, taking an involuntary step back.

Zeke was quiet for a second, the sound of the running water echoing off the bathroom walls.

“I don’t want to have to write in my report that you’re being difficult.”

That was a threat.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head, not looking at him. Why was this so hard? “I’m not trying to be.”

“It’s the last part of your old life. You have to do away with it so that you can begin with this one in service to the Lord.”

I hated everything about what Zeke just said, but I nodded and moved to undo my pants. A sliding sound behind me made me stop, and I turned around just in time to see a young boy—a surrogate—walk in, pulling along a still crying Jacob.

“Get off of me!” Jacob cried out through his tears, ripping his hand away while the door slid closed behind him.

The boy let him, rolling his eyes as he walked over towards Zeke.

“Matty,” Zeke said, frowning at the boy. “What did you do to him?”

“I haven’t done sh—I haven’t don’t anything!” the boy said, tossing his clipboard on the counter. “He’s been crying this whole time. Mother just said to get it on with because he’s not going to stop.”

“Did you explain to him that he’s just making things harder for himself?”

“Over and over again,” the boy—Matty—said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t care. He just wants to be a little bitch.”

“Matty!”

“Sorry.”

Zeke sighed, watching as Jacob just fell to the ground to cry. I watched him too, feeling at a loss of what to do. He already proved he wouldn’t listen to me.

“Who handled him?” Zeke asked Matty; low enough so Jacob couldn’t hear them, but not so low that I couldn’t.

“Declan. Which I get he’s rough, but fuck.”

“Did he force it?”

“I think so. He’s pretty banged up.”

Zeke let out another heavy sigh before asking, “Is he interested?”

“Yeah,” Matty said, nodding and looking at Jacob with softer eyes. “And with the way he’s acting…”

“Father and Mother are going to allow it. Declan will get him out of this.”

Matty scoffed. “Yeah he will.”

“Then just do your job. Get him clean and ready for orientation.”

I turned, walking over to Jacob and kneeling down in front of him.

“Hey,” I said, my voice low. “C’mon Jake. What did I say? You gotta be smarter than this.”

Jacob looked up at me, taking a second to register me, and then started crying harder. I rubbed his back, shushing him.

“Jacob,” I said when his wails got a little quieter. “I know you can do this.”

“He’s going to do it again!” Jacob said, looking back up at me. “He told me that he’s going to m-m-marry me, and that w-when he does, he’s going to g-to give me something to cry about.”

“Jacob—”

“And they’re going to let him! He raped me, and they’re all just going to sit there and let him do it again!”

“Jacob, stop,” I said, taking his face in my hands so he’d look up at me. “He didn’t just rape you; he _hurt_ you. You have bruises on your face, and that was from him just playing around! Having fun. That’s what scares me most, Jacob. Him _hurting_ you again.”

Jacob grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away, his sobs subsiding a bit. “I don’t care about that.”

“Jacob, this is where I need you to be smart. They want children from us. They’re going to—to do _that_. They’re going to rape us. And I know you don’t want to do it, I don’t want to do it, and I know Serenity doesn’t wants to do it either. But that’s why we’re here. We’re not going to escape that? Okay?

“So be smart. We’re not getting away from that. But that doesn’t mean we have to give them a reason to hurt us. He won’t hesitate to hit you, to beat you, to really hurt you. Don’t give him a reason to, Jacob. Please don’t give him a reason to beat you.”

Jacob took quick breaths; his sobs calm for now. His face was twisted up in straight misery, however. I knew his mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out some way out. Something he could say or do so that no one would touch him. And I hated that he had to do this. I hated that I had to talk him into being okay with being raped again and again, and carrying his rapist’s child again and again.

“I hate this,” Jacob whispered, a hiccup escaping.

“I know,” I said. “I don’t like it either.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know. I do too.”

Jacob nodded, moving and wiping his tears away. I thought about my earlier little tantrum, how hard it was to get myself to take off my pants. It seemed so silly compared to Jacob’s misery. I didn’t have time to freak out; not when Jacob needed me to help him off the ledge.

“I don’t want him to hit me again,” Jacob said. “That was the worst part. When he hit me.”

“Then let’s not give him a reason to. Can you stand up now?”

Jacob nodded, taking my hands once I stood up and offered them to him. I walked him over to Zeke and Matty, who were watching us closely. Zeke seemed distantly impressed.

“Can he shower next to me?” I asked him. “I think he’ll feel better if he could.”

“Sure,” Zeke said, gesturing to Matty to get Jacob a towel and washcloth.

I moved to take my pants off, encouraging Jacob to follow suit. It wasn’t long before Jacob was following me, taking off his own shirt and pants. As I stepped into the shower, I tried to pretend I didn’t hear Evan’s words ringing in my ear.

_You need to show him how to do this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jacob! I'm a monster for doing this to him. ;A:
> 
> I decided to go through with the post bomb mostly because I was reminded that a lot of people are stuck inside. ANNNND it helps me feel better. 
> 
> BTW, I'm on tumblr at aizenat.tumblr.com if you want to come watch me post cottagecore and talk about how gay I am. 
> 
> Today was really rough, and I swear I'm 100% sick of people's shit lol. 
> 
> It's really not funny. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm exhausted so I'm going to sleep soon. See you all tomorrow! 
> 
> Please leave comments! Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh. Hey, guys.”

I walked into the room, Jacob trailing behind slowly. It looked like a small classroom, the white walls decorated with religious posters. Rows of desks and chairs lined the room, though I doubted more than fifty could fit. At the front of the room was a large screen, a panel right next to it. And Serenity was sitting right in front of the screen, her kinky twists bouncing against her shoulders as she turned to look at us.

“Hey,” I said back, sitting next to her. She was wearing the white cotton dresses all of the other women on the compound had been wearing. “Any idea what this is?”

Serenity looked back at the door just as Jacob sat on her other side. Zeke and Matty, who led us down more maze hallways to this room, had left us in the room alone. Like all the other doors in this forsaken building, only a panel could open it. Once again, we were trapped.

“It’s an orientation, I think,” she said, turning back around. “I think it’s their lunch hour, but I wonder if they’re going to feed us.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Jacob asked, frowning.

“Hunger is a good form of manipulation,” Serenity said, leaning back in her chair. “They starve us out to make us compliant. Or, they spin it as a pious thing. We need to fast for some time while we connect with the community, or God, or some shit. The hunger breaks down our resistance, and we’ll find ourselves eagerly doing whatever we can to be accepted here.”

One look at Jacob’s face told me that was enough of this conversation.

“I didn’t know you were really into cults,” I said to her, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, they’re fucking insane.” Serenity smiled at me. “I always wondered if I would be susceptible to them, you know? Like, if what I knew about them would make me more likely to get involved with one, or smart enough to see through the shit.” Her smile faded as she looked at the screen. “Didn’t think I’d find out like this, though.”

I nodded, thinking about one of the nights we spent hanging out with other grad students last week during the conference. Serenity had kicked all of our asses at the trivia game we played; she ended the night pleasantly sober with enough pictures on her phone to blackmail each and every one of us.

“Aren’t you not into guys?” I asked, remembering the way she held back from hooking up with a French grad student, Simone, that night. Only that night, though.

“Yeah. That part’s going to be hard. I think that’s where they’ll likely lose me.”

“They might have a way of brainwashing it out of you.”

“It’s not mental, mate. I’d like to see how that would work, though.”

I smiled. “I—”

The screen in front of us blinked on, lighting up to nothing but white. We all went silent, watching. Waiting. Eventually, a picture came up of the long table outside. It was packed with people all laughing, talking, and eating happily. There were a couple of children running around the tables, a few women serving foods to men and the elderly. In one corner were the words _Eden’s Willows_ in a beautiful calligraphy script.

“Good afternoon, my children,” a voice said from behind us.

We all whipped around, watching as the woman from earlier—the one Zeke had called Mother—walked up to the front of the room. She was the epitome of regal with her head held up high and her steps sure and strong. She passed between me and Serenity, her eyes snapping to me as she passed. I felt myself shrink a little under her gaze, looking away as she turned in front of the picture on the screen. She took a minute to look at us, her face stern before she relaxed into a warm smile.

“Welcome to the Willows,” she said. “I trust you all feel much better after being bathed and dressed properly.”

I blinked, watching as she tilted her head as if expecting an answer. Serenity gave a curt nod. Jacob wasn’t looking at her. When her eyes fell on me, hardened again, I gave in and nodded.

“Wonderful. I’m sure you all had a rough morning. I wish I could say this day will get easier, but there is much to do for intake. I’ll go over the basics before we move on to your interviews. My name is Rumi. Though the community refers to me as ‘Mother.’”

“Why?” Serenity asked, narrowing her eyes. “Were you a virgin mother?”

The woman—Mother—blinked at Serenity, fixing her a polite smile.

“My husband is the spiritual leader here,” she said. “While we have other men who consult on similar matters, my husband heads them all. Everyone here calls him Father.”

“So he’s, like, God or something?”

I turned my head to Serenity, wondering why she was pushing this. Her leg was bouncing under the table; she was anxious. Scared. Still; being rude to these people wasn’t going to help her.

“He’s called Father the way that one would refer to, say, a Catholic priest,” Mother explained.

“Does he touch little boys too then?”

“Serenity!” I hissed, grabbing her attention.

She furrowed her brow at me, as if asking what she did wrong. I shook my head before nodding at Jacob. She followed my gaze, seeing the way Jacob’s wide eyes watched everything. She took a deep breath in and out before turning back to Mother.

“I’m sorry,” she said to her. “This is honestly all a lot, and it’s kinda pissing me off that you’re standing there acting like this is normal. I’m sorry for insulting your husband. I’m going to shut up now, so please continue.”

Mother watched Serenity for a moment, considering her. Then her eyes darted to me, hard as ice again. I froze under her glance, feeling relief when she nodded and continued.

“I know this can be overwhelming,” she said, speaking to all of them. “Especially for those rescued from the city. The way you were raised means you learned habits that will make adjusting here a challenge. But we have faith you will all succeed in living with God’s divine purpose. He wouldn’t have led you all here if you weren’t meant to be here.”

Jacob and Serenity tensed at that. I didn’t have a reaction; this was on brand for what I was expecting.

“Now,” Mother said, walking over to the panel next to the screen and touching a few buttons. “Now, let’s get through some basics. Eden’s Willows was started seventy years ago by my husband’s late grandfather, Father Kenneth. As a result of changing political tensions, and likely predicting the oncoming war, Father Kenneth wanted to create a holy land modeled after the vision of Eden God intended for us.

“As a practicing pastor, he asked members of his congregation to join him. Only fifty did at the time. They bought this land with their combined funds, and immediately took to building houses and establishing our way of life.

“During the war, his son, Father Rupert, led our community to prosper. While others starved, we ate well. While others lost faith, we found our way closer to God. And while the rest of the world’s population halted, we have been fruitful.”

Fruitful? I wondered how much of their population growth had to do with the fact that they apparently look for women and surrogates to kidnap and bring back to the compound.

“My husband, Father James, took over his father’s role a little over twenty years ago. And we’ve been growing even more aggressively since.” Mother smiled as if that was the best thing in the world. “Any questions so far?”

“How come you guys haven’t been shut down by the Nation?” Serenity asked. I eyed her, and she pretended not to notice. Though she did add, “I don’t mean like in a disrespectful way. I just mean, doesn’t the Nation like to be in control of things like birth rates and fertility?”

“A fair question,” Mother nodded, as if considering. “And you’re not wrong. Father Kenneth’s faith was a huge factor in this. Not to mention we don’t close ourselves off completely from the outside world. As you can see, we still use lots of technology that makes day-to-day life easier. No digging latrines out here.”

She paused to chuckle at her own joke. None of us even cracked a smile: it wasn’t a good one.

“Women and surrogates still have to have their fertilities accessed. And they are expected to adhere to the Nation’s expectations. But our system works. No one can claim to be abused here, our numbers only increase with every year, and our faith is consistent with the Nation’s beliefs. The small differences in our way of life isn’t enough for the Nation to disapprove.

“You’ll also notice that many of our members even hold jobs outside. This helps us continue to bring in revenue. And it’s not rare for some of the men to find their wives outside of the compound. We have doulas and doctors here, but anything requiring serious attention would be directed to a proper medical facility.

“Trust me when I say that this isn’t a situation where you’re forced in little huts and you’re never allowed to interact with the outside world. If you prove yourselves to be good-mannered wives, your husbands might take you off the compound for date nights or just to explore the nearby areas from time to time.”

“Wives?” Jacob asked, glancing at me. “We’re not girls.”

“Yes, though you will be married off as surrogate wives. We find the surrogate system the Nation follows incredibly distasteful. It’s not conducive to a happy home or a happy community. Since Father Rupert ruled that surrogates are to be married to the men, not only have we had a huge decrease in unmarried men in our community, but our numbers have increased significantly.”

I felt my heart racing, a question bubbling up that I was too afraid to ask.

“What about infertile women?” Serenity asked. It was the wrong question.

“You won’t have to worry about that.”

Serenity blinked, frowning. I watched as she thought over this and I took a deep breath in.

“Are these marriages between surrogates and men recognized by the Nation?” I asked.

Mother paused, watching me. “Yes. They are.”

“How?”

“How is it recognized? Is that the question you’re trying to ask?”

Smart woman. “Why?” I corrected.

Mother shook her head. “Now that’s more of a political question. Women and surrogates have no business in politics.”

“What sort of jobs do the men who work off the compound have?” I pushed.

I could feel Jacob and Serenity watching me, confused. They were still students; they didn’t know how to recognize an experiment the way I could.

“I don’t see why that should matter,” Mother said, frowning at me.

_You’re asking a lot of questions._

I was being too obvious. I sat back.

“I’m sorry,” I said, conceding. For now. “I just want to make sure I get this right.”

“There’s no need to be so anxious,” Mother said, her face softening every so slightly. “Your husband will be there to correct any mistakes you make.”

I nodded. Right. Of course.

“When do we have to be married?” Jacob asked, not quite getting that last word out without it sounding like a curse word.

Mother did give him a sympathetic smile. “Rescues are to be matched immediately, I’m afraid. We’ve found that rescues do best when they’re, well, thrusted into married life without much time to ruminate about it. But you should all be relieved to know that each and every single one of your handlers has expressed interest in marrying you.”

“Handlers?”

“The ones who stepped up to handle your rescue. You would have had some sort of one-on-one time with them.”

Evan. He wanted to marry me? In normal circumstances, I would have given him a spin. But this was far from ideal. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. I glanced at the others: Serenity was looking confused while Jacob had his eyes closed while he took measured, deep breaths.

“There are some basic rules that we honor here at the Willows,” Mother said, walking over to the white panel next to the screen.

She did a swiping movement on it, and another graphic came up, reading _Guidelines_ and followed with a list of points.

“The first and most important rule here is to love, honor, and obey God and His emissaries. My husband, Father James, is the head of God’s emissaries here. We have a council of six deacons who also act as God’s envoys. Through their leadership, the men are raised in the gospel to obey God’s will and ensure it is employed here on earth.”

“So by ‘emissaries,’” Serenity said, her face twisted up as if smelling something foul, “that pretty much means all the men on the compound.”

Mother smiled. “Essentially, yes.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Mother frowned. “We do not use the Lord’s name in vain here, young lady.”

“Right,” Serenity said, looking at me instead of rolling her eyes. “Sorry.”

“The next rule is that wives, surrogates, and daughters are to submit to the men in their lives. Our men’s wills are as absolute as God’s, for God moves through our men.”

Mother paused, as if waiting for a response to this. At this point, we were all just staring at her with abject horror, waiting to hear how bad this will get. She continued.

“The next rule, which is just as important, is to honor the community as you honor your husbands and fathers. You will see that we are very big on togetherness here. You will integrate, and you will participate. You will not act as strangers here.

“The fourth major rule is to be fruitful. There is no protesting, no negotiating, and no refusals. You will get pregnant, you will have children, and you will love them and raise them here in the Lord’s way. Any questions?”

“So, like,” Serenity said, her face still twisted, “I assume there are a lot more rules that we’ll just have to learn as we go. But, like, are these like the big ones? Like the Ten Commandments of the Willows?”

Mother scoffed, hiding her smile behind her hand. The gesture had been so warm and genuine that it surprised me.

“Yes,” she said once she collected herself. “You could say that. The other rules are the sort that your husbands can easily teach. These laws, however, are particularly egregious if broken. And consistent disrespect of these laws will result in communal intervention.”

There was a tense silence while Mother let her words sink in. I closed my eyes, thinking of where I’d been just earlier this morning. Swimming in the hotel pool with Lyle, feeling free and having fun. Sex on my terms, and dreaming about what that development would turn into.

I had no idea that this morning with Lyle would be the last time I’d get to do that.

“So from here,” Mother said, not even bothering to ask if we had any questions, “you will have your fingerprints and pictures taken so you can be registered. We’ll be setting up appointments for your fertility testing while doing that, as well as conducting interviews to see if the council approves of your upcoming marriages.”

Mother turned, pressing more buttons on the panel, the screen going black. She walked over to the door closest to her, hitting the panel to open it. Instead of Zeke and Matty and whoever brought Serenity to the room, there were two men standing there in white pants and shirts.

“Up, my children,” Mother said, walking over to us and standing in front of my desk. “These men will take you to your interview rooms.”

Jacob didn’t move, though Serenity did slowly get up. I started to follow, though Mother moved to block me. Okay. I took a step back and waited as one of the men physically lifted Jacob to his feet and other guided Serenity out. At the door, Serenity turned back, her eyes meeting mine and looking fearful. I just nodded at her: whatever Mother wanted to hold me back for wasn’t going to hurt me.

Probably.

“Now,” she said, reaching out and wrapping her arm through mine before leading me towards the door. “Now, what is your name, love?”

I swallowed as we entered the hallway. Wherever Jacob and Serenity had been taken, they were gone.

“Andres.” I told her as she led me down the hall.

“And you’re how old, Andres?”

“Twenty-five.”

“A bit of an older dog then.”

She tried to say it as if she was simply musing, but I heard the insult. It shouldn’t have bristled me, but it did. I wasn’t _that_ fucking old.

“I’m pretty good at learning,” I said, because it was true. And because I didn’t want her somehow getting me in trouble by making people believe I’ll be difficult.

“That’s good. The boy who brought you in. Evan. Do you have any objections to his interest?”

I didn’t answer right away. Why would she ask that? It’s not like I had a choice.

“Objections?”

“Yes. If you did, I might be able to convince my husband not to approve of your marriage. Assuming Evan wants to pursue it after your interview.”

Why wouldn’t he want to pursue it? There was something I was missing, and it was pissing me off. We turned a corner, down another long hallway.

“I can’t think of anything in particular,” I finally answered, her steps slowing. I quickly matched her pace. “He’s been very kind to me.”

“Hmm,” Mother hummed. “How lucky for you. He’s not shown much interest in anyone so far. He’s almost thirty, so we’d like to see him married sooner than later.”

“Then I should do my duty then,” I said, not sure what else to say to that. We stopped in front of a door, and I looked at her. Mother’s gaze was cool as she met my eyes. “Right?”

“Good answer,” she said, pressing her hand against the panel next to the door.

It slid open to a room filled with people. I hesitated, just for a second, surprised. Against the far wall were six men sitting in chairs, all wearing white robes over their pants. They were all old enough to be my father, graying and stern looking. A couple were visibly balding.

In the center of the room was a small, wood table. On one side was another stern looking middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and heavy lines under his eyes. Eyes that looked distantly familiar.

And sitting across from him was Evan.

I swallowed as Mother let go of me and walked over sit next to the older man. Evan watched me for a second before reaching out a hand towards me.

“Come here, Andres,” he said, his voice gentle as if trying to cajole a cat. “It’s okay.”

I glanced at the men lining the back wall before walking over. Evan stood, taking my hand and guiding me into the seat next to him. Once I was settled, he sat down, the whole setup oddly intimate. I felt like I was meeting his parents.

“Hello, son,” the man began, smiling warmly at me. “My name is Father James. Though you may just call me Father. I hope you’ve been treated well?”

I nodded, feeling oddly starstruck.

“I didn’t expect to meet you like this,” I said, glancing at Evan. His face was perfectly calm, as if everything happening was normal. “This early, I mean. Do you normally do these interviews?”

Father let out a small chuckle, glancing at Mother. His wife. She took his lead, tilting her head up.

“We do not,” she said. “Only the council needs to approve of the marriages. Typically. And they don’t need to watch the interviews to give that approval.”

I glanced at the men lining the wall again. “Am I lucky, then, to warrant the inquisition?”

Father chuckled again, writing something done on the tablet in front of him.

“You could say that,” Mother said, humor leaving her eyes. “Evan is a bit of a special case. He will be replacing my husband when he can no longer lead the Willows. Meaning that whomever Evan marries will replace _me_ when that day comes. Therefore, this is an important decision. Thus the council, myself, and my husband.”

I looked up at Evan, surprised. He seemed pretty young to be considered for something like that. I also hadn’t gotten the idea that he was particularly pious. In fact, the only thing he seemed to share with Father were his hazel eyes—

 _Oh my_ fucking _God._

“Your position,” I asked Father, turning to him. “That’s a family inheritance, right?”

Father nodded, looking pleased that I made that connection. “Yes. Therefore, not only do you need to be approved by the council, but we must approve as well.”

“As Evan’s parents,” Mother said, just for emphasis.

I nodded, glancing at Evan.

“Didn’t think I’d be meeting your parents today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early upload today! I need to do some self-care jazz after work, so I'm posting at work. Totally not awkward using my work computer for this lol. 
> 
> Anyway, this was a bit of an info dump, but whatever. Whatever. I do what I want! 
> 
> As always, please leave comments! See you all tomorrow!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you move on from the worst experience of your life?

“Question.”

I pretended not to hear Dr. Moore as I continued typing up my proposal for another experiment. This one would require a bit of research before I got started on the experiment itself, and that part could become costly. Meaning my wording had to be precise so that the cost appeared worth the risk. Fucking bureaucracy.

“Please, De la Vega,” Dr. Moore said, snapping my laptop shut. “I know you’re not that busy.”

“Always too busy for you,” I smiled at her, opening my laptop again.

Dr. Moore was an older woman, close to sixty, who was the dean of Tulane’s science and medical college now that Gus was gone. I never had any issues with her; in fact, her eccentrics were similar to Gus’. The two apparently even dated once upon a time, years before I was even a twinkle in my father’s eye—as Gus would eloquently put it—but broke it off when they realized they often found themselves trying to out-weird each other.

Dr. Moore was now married to her wife, a sensible teacher who must have a lot of patience to put up with her. Thankfully, Dr. Moore cared even less about the actual research going on at the school, and just checked in to get status reports and to make sure we weren’t experimenting on kidnapped children. Something she seemed very concerned about for some reason.

She sat down across from me at the station I’d claimed, her long, graying hair in a long braid down her back and her signature purple lipstick clashing with her olive skin tone. Her face got serious as she regarded me.

“I am your boss,” she said, her voice somber. “Believe it or not, that means you do have to answer to me.”

I looked around, as if she’d been talking to someone else.

“Are there cameras around?” I asked. “Who are you putting on this act for?”

She looked at me for a hard second before sighing and slapping the table. The other researchers and assistants working on other projects all jumped and looked before realizing who it was and returning to their work.

“Dammit!” she said, shaking her head. “Why does no one take me serious here? I’m the fucking dean! I should get some respect!”

“I’m sure the tantrums have nothing to do with it,” I said, loading my proposal back up and continuing. “You said you had a question?”

Dr. Moore looked at me with a frown before seeming to remember why she was bothering me in the first place.

“Yes! Right! I have a proposition for you.”

“That sounds like an HR complaint.”

“Jesus! Why do you kids only think about sex?” Dr. Moore said, rolling her eyes and speaking loudly so that everyone else in the room could hear her. Fucking drama queen. “No, this is a work-related proposition.”

“I don’t want a promotion,” I told her. “As long as I can keep researching, I’m fine.”

“Oh no, Reggie would fucking kill me and bury me alive if I promoted you over him.”

I wasn’t going to ask how someone could kill her and bury her alive at the same time because that was what she wanted. So I looked up at her and shrugged.

“Then what?”

“Well, as you know,” she started instead of getting to the fucking point, “I am down a few professors. Especially now that we know what happened to Drs. Warren and Harvey. I had taken on a couple of temporary positions these past couple of semesters, but when the fall semester starts, I want to have a consistent staff. So how would you like to be the genetics professor?”

I looked up at her, surprised. “You want me to be a professor?”

“Well, yes. I’ve sat in a few of the classes you TA’d for Gus, and your lectures are engaging. I thought the same when I saw your talks in Toronto last year. Now, since this will be your first year, I can give you two intro courses, I’d also need you to teach a Foundation in Medicine class, but I think you could handle it.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel. I knew I should be ecstatic. Happy and high as a kite. But I didn’t feel anything. It felt weird knowing I was getting this because Gus and Bev were dead. It was even weirder to consider this when I still didn’t even know what was going on with the Willows.

Was I allowed to move on? Could I move on?

“Do you need an answer now?” I asked her.

“Oh God no!” she said, pulling out her phone and reading something on it. “The spring semester barely started! Think it over. Just let me know before, you know, like April. So we can get the classes sorted and students can actually register for them. You know?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” she said, standing. “I’ll let you get back to doing your research thang. Good job. Everyone!” she called out, spinning to get everyone’s attention. “Good job, everyone. You’re doing a good job!” She pointed to an assistant that was feeding the rats no one was using right now. “You! I like how you’re being nice to those rats. I know you’re going to end up killing them, but they’re going to appreciate how nice you’re being. Keep up the good work!”

And with a bounce she was way too old to have in her step, she left the room. An intern over by the copier behind me turned to the researcher next to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?”

~*~

My hand slipped on sink, forcing me to slam my other hand in front of the mirror in order to catch myself. When Kelvin thrusted in me, it caught me off guard, a yelp escaping my lips.

“You good?” Kelvin asked, not slowing down his aggressive pace.

“Yeah,” I panted, getting my bearings and pushing back to meet him. “Don’t stop.”

“Anything for you.”

Kelvin’s hands on my hips tightened as he slammed harder inside me. I bit back a moan, grateful to have a friend like Kelvin. He was, honestly, the only friend I had who didn’t get weird around me when I got back to Faust City. While everyone got awkward, unsure how to handle me, Kelvin would talk shit as if nothing had changed. He didn’t preach at me about how to cope with everything the way everyone else had. And he was happy to fuck me when I needed it just like the old days.

I got to be myself around him.

“Fuck,” Kelvin muttered, leaning forward, a hand resting above my own on the mirror.

I winced, the new position pushing my hips into the side of the sink with every thrust. Kelvin had always been a selfish lover; his selfishness was the reason we never actually dated.

“Ease up,” I told him, pushing back on his leg.

“Just a second,” he muttered, unrelenting.

I looked up, watching his face in the mirror. His eyes were closed, his thick hair wet with sweat and sticking to his face. I rolled my eyes.

Selfish as fuck.

Letting a bit of heat swarm through my body, I pushed Kelvin back with my magic. He took a step back, losing his balance. I used that break to shove him off of me entirely.

“Andres, c’mon,” he started, watching me turn around. “I was close.”

“I don’t care,” I said, hopping up on the sink. It was sturdy enough to support me. For a bit. I waved him on once I was settled. “Let’s go.”

Kelvin nodded, grapping my thighs and all but pulling me down on his dick. I was hesitant to take too much weight off the sink only because I knew Kelvin would drop me once he came. He’s done it before. But even I had to admit I loved how deep he got once we let gravity help. I moved my hips, getting him to hit me just right. Kelvin set a steady pace that I could relax into.

“Fuck,” I sighed, throwing my head back against the mirror.

Kelvin pressed forward, his breath in my ear. I closed my eyes, letting the pleasure build and build inside me. Everything was hot, our pants louder than the dull pound of the music outside the bathroom. Everything fell away. The only thing that mattered was us, connected, gasping as the heat grew and grew.

Kelvin came first, as usual, his hips stilling when he did. He took heavy breaths as he recovered, his hand moving to my dick to jerk me off. I hadn’t expected that—Kelvin was rarely that considerate—and so it only took a few pumps to push me over the edge. I felt light as my body sang with pleasure, my skin tingling.

Once we both were able to catch our breaths, I nodded at Kelvin.

“Don’t drop me.”

Kelvin chuckled, pulling out and setting me down before moving to the side to take off his condom.

“You act like I’m some caveman.”

“It’s that big forehead,” I said as I pulled my pants up. “Makes you look like one.”

“Ha ha. Why are we friends?”

“I’m the only one in the world who lets you fuck them?”

“I have quite the active sex life you know,” Kelvin said, frowning at me as he pushed his hair back in the mirror.

“That sounds fake.”

“Whatever.”

We checked each other, making sure it wasn’t too obvious what we’d been doing.

“I’m going out first,” I said, heading for the door.

“Fine. Find me in twenty; this party is lame and I have a date in the morning.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” I laughed, opening the door and slipping out.

The slow beats of R&B wafted in the hallway, getting louder as I headed to the stairs. I didn’t even know whose house I was at; someone Blue knew. I made my way down the stairs, side-stepping two girls making out at the bottom. They looked college aged, making me feel old. I had no idea how Blue could party with these kids all the time and not feel weird about it.

Still, it was a nice change of pace. As the bass got louder and I turned towards the living room, the place was packed. Most people my age were having intimate dinner parties where maybe only one or two strangers were there because of their association with one of the guests. And because everyone knew each other, the night would turn to old memories better forgotten, or topics of what our graduating class is up to. And if the conversation didn’t turn there, it was about credit scores, financial advice, house renovation talks, and sharing about future family making plans.

And considering everything I had just escaped, those were all the last things I wanted to talk about.

As such, parties like these were a relief. I watched a young boy I didn’t know mix drinks and hand them out to whoever was nearby. I glanced at the lethal combination of alcohol next to him, and took the red Solo cup he offered me as I walked by. I took a sip, tasting nothing but berries and mango. I smiled, sure this was going to fuck me up.

I felt hands on my ass, gripping hard.

“Where have you been?”

I turned, smiling at Blue as she crossed her arms over her chest. Blue was tall and skinny with dark skin that looked blue in the dark light. She spent so much time at parties that the nickname became appropriate. She was wearing a long, red dress, her thick lips twisted in a frown.

“I was in the bathroom,” I said casually, sipping the drink.

“Doing what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Going to the bathroom.”

“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips, not believing me. “And where’s Kelvin?”

I shrugged. “In the bathroom where I left him?”

“You two are impossible,” Blue said, reaching into her purse and pulling out my phone. “I think your mom is blowing you up.”

I rolled my eyes, taking my phone. Sure enough, I had ten missed calls and almost twice as many texts from her. I handed Blue my drink, noting the time. It was barely midnight.

“I’ll be outside,” I said, heading for the door. “Find Kelvin so we can leave soon.”

Blue downed my drink before nodding. I left the living room, passing an arguing couple as I reached the door. We were in a quiet neighborhood filled with small houses that were often rented to young people who weren’t interested in starting a family. Kelvin was trying to convince me to go in on a house with him, but I wasn’t sure if living with him would be a good idea. Especially if he was getting around the way he claimed he was.

I dialed my mother, sitting on the steps as a cool breeze hit me.

“ _Mijo_?” my mother asked, picking up on the first ring. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Where are you?”

“Mama,” I said, shaking my head. “ _Tranquila_! _Por_ _favor_.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you’re disappearing into the night! Again!”

“I’m not a child, Mama. It’s Friday, and I wanted to go out.”

“All you said is that you were going out with friends. You didn’t say where or how late you’d be.”

“I didn’t know how late I’d be out.”

“You could have texted me a time frame.”

“All you would have done was wait up for me anyway.”

“Do you blame me! Andres, you can _not_ just disappear like that! I need to know—”

“What, Mama?” I snapped, standing up. “You need to know where I am at all times? You never used to act this way before.”

“You know that’s not fair,” she said, tears in her voice. I sighed, looking up at the night sky. “You were literally stolen from me. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you were _dead_! I—”

“That’s not fair to me, Mama,” I told her. “It’s not my fault what happened to me.”

“I’m not saying it is.”

“Then why are you punishing me like it is?”

“I’m not punishing you! I just need you to check in.”

“I told you I was going to be out. I told you not to wait up. So why are you even awake right now?”

“Because I have no idea where you are!”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” I said, “Go to sleep and I’ll be home within an hour.”

“ _Mijo_ —”

“I’m hanging up, Mama. Good night.”

The door opened behind me, and I saw Blue step outside with Kelvin in tow. Kelvin saw the look on my face and frowned.

“Mom’s freaking out again?” he asked.

I nodded. Again. It’s become an everyday occurrence.

“This is why I keep telling you to go in on one of these houses with me,” he said, heading down the stairs. His car was parked down the road. “Moving out will force your mom to let go of the chains.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Blue said as we followed him. “He just got back and then he moves out? Any decent mother would go ballistic.”

“I get concern,” I said, watching Kelvin search for his keys. “But how am I supposed to get passed this when she’s acting like a psycho?”

“Exactly,” Kelvin agreed, finding them.

“Not exactly,” Blue disagreed. “If my child disappeared and came back with a story like yours, I’d be overprotective too. You’re not the only one who was traumatized by what happened.”

I let out a heavy sigh, not in the mood to argue this again. This was the worst part about coming back. Everyone needed me to be something for them while they processed their “trauma” over what _I_ actually went through. The mask was always on because the show was never ending.

“Whatever,” I muttered as we reached Kelvin’s Mustang.

I took the front seat, letting Blue into the back before sliding in myself. The two talked the entire time about work and whether they should go out tomorrow too. I didn’t respond when they asked if I wanted to go to a concert for some artist Blue was dating, nor did I commit to the after party at the woman’s house afterward.

“What?” Blue asked from the back, her voice sounding distracted. “You mad at me or something?”

I rolled my eyes, sick of this.

“Why would I be mad at you?” I asked, letting my exhaustion seep into my voice.

“Because I’m siding with your mother instead of you.”

“I don’t care whose side you take.”

“Then why are you so quiet?”

“Did you ever think that it’s late and maybe I’m just tired?”

“You get quiet when you’re mad.”

“Now I just get quiet when I don’t have anything to say.”

“Yeah, or if—”

“Evan, the guy I had to marry at the Willows,” I continued as though Blue hadn’t said anything. “Sometimes, he would get sick of listening to me, so he’d ban me from speaking. I wasn’t allowed to say a word until he said I could talk again. And if I did speak, he’d pop me on the mouth as a reminder.”

There was an awkward silence in the car. I caught Kelvin looking in the rearview mirror, obviously meeting Blue’s eyes. No one liked it when I brought up what happened to me. I wasn’t allowed to talk about it, wasn’t allowed to acknowledge how it changed me. I let out a dry chuckle as I sank in my seat. Kelvin finally turned down the street to my house.

“This is the shit that drives me crazy,” I said. “Everyone wants to have an opinion over what happened to me but no one wants to hear me say it.”

“It’s not that,” Blue said from the back, her voice low. “We just don’t know what to say when you bring it up. We don’t want to hurt you by reacting wrong.”

So I just had to not bring it up at all so _they_ didn’t fuck up. Seemed legit. Kelvin stopped in front of my house, the wired gate separating our house from the many others down the street. The light was on in the living room. I was so sick of arguing tonight.

“Fine,” I said, opening the car door. “Just give me a week and I’ll be back to pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Andres, that’s not—”

I opened the door and got out, pushing the front seat forward so Blue could get out and get in the front. I heard her sigh as she did just that.

“You’re not making this easy, Andres,” she said as she got in.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, serious as a heart attack. “I’ll work on making myself easier for you to manage.”

“Andres—”

I walked away, heading to the gate. As I opened it, I heard the roar of Kelvin’s engine come to life and he peeled off like a speed demon now that I wasn’t in the car. I watched them turn, feeling happy now that I was alone. I stood on the street, the block quiet in the waning moonlight. I closed my eyes, taking in this rare moment of peace before I went inside to argue with my mother. Again.

“Andres.”

I turned around, my heart racing as magic heated up my body like electricity. I saw a figure approach me, and I lifted my hand to use a spell to stop them. A barrier would be best. I visualized the white hot energy flowing through me forming a wall between us right when the figure stepped under a street lamp.

I took a sharp breath in, my magic cooling down immediately. It wasn’t some reporter or Evan or anyone from the Willows. The man was around my age, tall and fit with dark, deep set, hooded eyes. His hair was thick and curly, and he had an undercut with a fluff of the curls on top. He had a septum piercing visible, his ears also hosting more piercings than I could count. He was wearing jeans and a plaid button up, a jacket over top as if we weren’t in Louisiana.

Given that spring was barely starting, it would be entirely appropriate attire for Canada.

I opened my mouth, taking a shaky step towards him. I wanted to hug him and run from him all at once.

“Lyle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOOOOOOOO I fucked up lol. 
> 
> I've been editing my story at work since I get in before everyone else and have time to make the final edit and post before anyone gets here. But this chapter was longer than usual (if you couldn't tell), so everyone arrived before I had a chance to post it. So I told myself I would just email myself the chapter and post once I got home. BUT I forgot to email myself, lol. Didn't realize until I was home. So no upload last night. 
> 
> This chapter is to make up for yesterday's. Meaning I WILL be posting another chapter later today. I'll be editing that at work and will make sure I email it to myself lol. 
> 
> I just don't like being on this site when I'm at work because where I sit, all my coworkers can see my screen. And it'd have to start a whole conversation of how I'm writing a story about cults and posting it online and SOMEONE is going to ask where they can read it and I write with a pen name for a reason lol. 
> 
> Albeit an insanely obvious one if you know me, but that's not important right now. 
> 
> Either way, do expect another update once I am free from this cursed job! (Jk, my job isn't that terrible; though I'm still bitter I have to show up). 
> 
> How is everyone handling things? I've been getting zero sleep and staving off weird anxiety attacks at work. What's funny is we're SLOW AS FUCK considering a lot of people are shut down right now. So all I have to do is sit around stressing and worrying and this coronavirus is all anyone is talking about. 
> 
> On a lighter side, the radio hosts at the station my work plays was joking around about what songs would be on their coronavirus playlist. They said MC Hammer's Can't Touch This and Bee Gees Staying Alive lol. Now I'm obsessed with building the perfect coronavirus playlist. 
> 
> If you guys have any ideas for songs that would be perfect for that, let me know. 
> 
> And, as always, please leave comments on your thoughts! See y'all later today!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interviewing for a job you don't even want is quite the experience...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter, be advised (sorry, still in work mode) that this is the SECOND chapter being posted today due to missing yesterday's upload. Make sure you've read chapter 8 before starting this chapter. 
> 
> Also, trigger warning for casual racism.

“Andres,” Evan’s mother—Mother—said, looking down at the tablet in front of her. “De la Vega? What is that? Mexican?”

I blinked at the disdain in her voice at that last word. I glanced at Evan, who was just watching me closely.

“It’s Spanish,” I corrected, noting the frown on her face. That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

“Like from Spain?”

“Are you talking about the name itself, or me? Because there are many countries on this planet where people speak Spanish.”

Mother scoffed, writing something down on the tablet.

“So you’re a _mestizo_? Or mulatto?”

No one said anything to her. I didn’t understand the hostility: her own son was obviously mixed race! Why was there a problem with what I was mixed with?

“My mother is Puerto Rican,” I answered through my teeth. “My father is Black.”

“You go by _her_ surname?”

“Yes. They didn’t get married until after I was born, so she gave me hers.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“You understand you’re not to speak it here, correct?”

“Yes.” I didn’t have anything else to say to that.

“Good,” Mother said, giving me a tight smile. “Are you educated, Andres de la Vega?”

I hesitated, glancing at Evan. His brow furrowed, just a little.

Shit.

“Yes,” I answered. 

“Of course you are. And how high is your education level?”

I hesitated again. From the corner of my eye, I saw Evan shift so he was facing me. I didn’t want to answer this; I knew how the Nation felt about educated surrogates and fertile women. As in, they didn’t believe in it. Meaning it would be a point against me if they knew I was, technically, a doctor.

A hand rested on my back, my spine straightening at the touch. Evan leaned in, his voice low when he spoke.

“Answer her question, Andres,” he ordered.

I nodded, hating that I was even in a position to not be proud of this. I worked so hard to get my degrees. Why did being here mean I had to feel ashamed of it? None of this was fair.

“I’m—” I started before cutting myself off. “I have—I mean, I’m a doctor.”

The men against the wall muttered to each other, and Evan started rubbing my back as if to soothe me. From what, I wasn’t sure.

“A doctor,” Mother said, writing in her tablet. “My, my, my. Are you a recent graduate?”

“No,” I told her, wishing I didn’t have to answer.

“Really? How long have you been a _doctor_?” She said it mockingly. As if it was the most asinine thing she’d ever heard.

“Three years,” I counted. “About.”

Mother frowned. “Really? So you became a doctor at 22? Isn’t that early even in Faust City?”

I felt my face get hot. I shrugged.

“I guess.”

Evan’s hand paused on my back and snaked around to my waist. He gave me a firm squeeze. That wasn’t the answer they were looking for. I let out a heavy breath.

“I skipped a few grades as a kid,” I admitted. “And I was taking college classes in high school, so I was a sophomore by the time I started undergrad.”

“Oh my!” Mother said, the mocking tone getting more prominent. “So we have a little genius in our midst!”

“No,” I told her. “ _I’m_ not. Jacob’s a genius. Like, actually. I’m not.”

“Humble,” Evan’s father—Father—said, interrupting whatever Mother was about to say. “A very good trait in a wife.”

I didn’t say anything, and it was only when Evan squeezed my waist again that I realized I was supposed to say something.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“Are a follower of Christ, son?” Father asked, his voice gentle.

I hesitated, glancing at the men before shaking my head.

“No.”

“Do you believe in God at all?”

“No.”

“You understand that our faith is a big part of this community, correct?”

“I figured.”

A very hard squeeze at that. I winced.

“Yes, sir. I understand,” I corrected.

“So let’s try this again. Are you a follower of Christ?”

I glanced at Evan. “Am I supposed to lie?”

That got me a very sharp squeeze. I let out a little yelp before searching for an answer they’ll approve of.

“I’m not,” I admitted. “But I can be.” Another squeeze. “I will be.” A pinch at that. “I want to be.”

That had the desired effect. No more pinches or squeezes, and Father’s relaxed smile.

“Do you believe in God, son?” he repeated.

“No,” I said honestly. “But I want to,” I lied.

“Good,” Father said, nodding at the men lining the wall. They all seemed satisfied.

“Not good,” Mother said, all but glaring at me. “He’s not at all befitting Evan’s wife. He’s a know-it-all, too skinny, _and_ an outsider. A little Mexican at that! I say—”

“Silence,” Evan commanded, his tone startling me. He let go of me, folding his hands on the table as his mother regarded him. “In no capacity do you have a say in who I marry. The only reason Father and I allowed you sit in here is out of respect for your position. Now he’s been tense this entire interview because of your remarks. Father, I will have her silent if she’s to remain here.”

Mother blinked, looking a bit lost. I was lost. My mother was all sweet and soft words, but she would beat my ass if I ever spoke to her like that. But Mother only seemed slightly put out. Father nodded at Evan, turning to grip the back of Mother’s neck. He leaned in and spoke to her, his words firm though quiet. She nodded, her face serious as she listened.

“I’m sorry,” Mother said to Evan.

“She will be silent for the rest of the interview,” Father said. “And I will properly reprimand her later.”

Evan nodded, accepting that. I shifted, feeling uncomfortable.

“Now, Andres,” Father said, turning to me. “You’re going to have to answer our questions honestly, okay?”

I nodded.

“You said your parents are married. Are they still together?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Any siblings?”

“No. I’m an only child.”

“You’re wearing our bangles. You practice magic?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. How familiar are you with it?”

I shook my head. “My mother practices Santeria. I learned everything I know from her.”

“So you grew up with it?”

“Yes.”

“You understand why your magic has been bound, correct?”

“No,” I said honestly, glancing at Evan. “I mean, I don’t understand why if I promise not to use it. And if Evan can use it himself.”

“Evan practices a sacred mysticism for us. It’s not like the devil magic practiced in Faust City.”

“Sure felt a lot like it to me.”

Evan moved, wrapping his arm around my waist again, and pinching my side hard. I jumped, yelping as I turned to glare at him. He leaned in, his voice low—similar to his father’s just moments ago—as he spoke to me.

“That is the last time I’m going to tolerate your disrespect,” he warned. “Do it again, and I will bend you over this table and spank you like the child you’re behaving like. Do you understand?”

I felt my breath get heavy and my face get hot as I stared him down. He had no right to order me around, nor threaten to fucking hit me. But what else could I do except sit there and accept it? Agree to it. Embrace it. It was a load of shit and I wished I could tell him that.

“I understand,” I muttered instead.

Evan gave me one nod before straightening up. His father was giving us an approving look; he probably liked seeing Evan chide me. It went along with their little macho game.

The questions continued, diving into my social, and sex, life back home. They wanted to know how I used birth control up until now, and I lied and told them I was on the pill. They asked me if I knew how to cook, clean, or rear children. I knew how to do none of that.

They kept going, on and on until I felt my head spinning. Their last question had been when the last time was I had sex. I hesitated before admitting to my tryst with Lyle earlier that day. Father had nodded sagely while the other men bristled.

“He needs a firm hand,” one of the men against the wall said.

“I’ll give it to him,” Evan said, watching me affectionately. 

“A very firm hand, Evan. His history suggests he’s very loose.”

Rude as fuck. I glared at the man, though Evan was quicker to respond.

“Marriage will cure that. He just needs someone to settle down with.”

“There’s a lot for him to learn,” another man said, frowning. “It might be too much for him.”

“Anyone who was able to skip grades is a fast learner. Aren’t you, Andres?”

I blinked at him before nodding.

“Andres,” Father said grabbing my attention. “Do you have any objections?”

I stared at him, confused. “I’m allowed to object?”

“We’d allow it in your case only because you’d be marrying the next community leader,” Father explained. “There were a few other men expressing interest. If you truly object to Evan, you will be paired off with one of those men.”

Oh. So it was more like an ultimatum. Marry Evan or be forced to marry some stranger whose name I didn’t even know. I sighed, realizing how still Evan was next to me. Was he afraid I would reject him? Interesting.

“No,” I finally answered, leaning back in my chair. “Evan’s been…” I searched for the right word but couldn’t find it. “He’s been _patient_ with me. I’ve no objections.”

Father smiled, noting something on the tablet. After a few seconds, he passed the tablet over to Evan. Evan glanced at it before writing on it himself. He pushed it in front of me, handing me the stylus. I looked down, my stomach filling with dread.

It was a document, a digital copy of an official looking—and very legally binding—marriage license. I felt my breath pick up, and I had to force myself not to get up and walk away from it.

“I—” I started, words failing me. “What’s…”

“You said you have no objections,” Father said as if this made sense.

“I just thought…” I started, unsure what I thought. I knew I’d have to get married fast. But I didn’t think it’d be this fast! “I thought there’d just be a little time beforehand.”

“You have the sign the license before the wedding ceremony tonight.”

“ _Tonight_?”

“Are you going to be difficult?” Evan asked me, lowering his voice. “You keep saying you can do this, and then…”

I took a few calming breaths, closing my eyes.

“I can do it,” I said.

“Then sign it.”

I nodded, opening my eyes and looking at the line next to Evan’s signature. Waiting for me. I signed it, feeling any fight I had left leave me. Evan pushed the tablet back to Father, pulling me close to him and kissing me on the cheek. I couldn’t even fake affection.

I’d just sign my life away to a bunch of devils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi hi! 
> 
> So here is part two of today's double post! 
> 
> Pretty tense scene, right? I really don't like weddings, so of course I had to make everyone anxious about a wedding. It's not going to be pleasant. :( 
> 
> I think I need to figure out how to make this part of the story go faster because this story is going to end up as long as the last one if I don't reign this in. Haha ha. It's really not funny. ;A;
> 
> Leave comments as always! Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to bypass an argument is to distract from it...

“Andres! _¿Quién es?_ ”

I shut the door behind me, Lyle standing awkwardly between my mother and me. She was still dressed in her work pants and a pastel blue blouse, her hair pulled up into a tight bun. She had her teacher face on, ready to begin scolding. Lyle had thrown her off, and I was almost amused to watch as she took him in up and down.

“Mom, this is Lyle,” I said in English, to be polite. “I’ve told you about him before; we kept meeting up at all the conventions I went to.”

“Oh,” my mother said, her face relaxing only a bit. “Yes, I remember you mentioning him before. You—” She cut herself off, obviously unsure if she should have continued with that thought. She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s nice to meet you, Lyle.”

“Likewise, Ms. De la Vega,” Lyle said awkwardly, glancing at me for some sort of guidance. I wasn’t going to tell him that her last name was actually Tunstall. “I’m sorry to pop in so late.”

“Yeah, why are you here?” I asked, leading him to the living room. The television was still on, an old sitcom rerun playing with the volume down low. My mother’s go-to when she was waiting up for me.

“Um, it’s kind of a long story,” Lyle said, following me and sitting down at the recliner across from where I sat down on the couch. My mother took the loveseat between us, tense. “I came into the city hoping to see you. I got in late, though, so I was out with my sister—I flew in with her—and I just wanted to walk around.

“I was at _Larry’s Grill_ , and I remembered you talking about how close it was to where you lived. So I just started wandering around. I didn’t expect to see you; I was actually just about to head back to my Airbnb when I saw you get out of that car. I was going to leave you alone, but…”

His voice trailed off, and I had to fight not to smile. But seeing me had brought back all those feelings and emotions he thought had been long gone. Or maybe he’d seen how irritated I was from my posture; he used to always pick at me at conventions, teasing me and asking if I was nervous or scared before a talk. Goading me. Encouraging me really: he somehow knew I liked a challenge; if I thought he doubted me, I’d push myself to success just to prove him wrong.

How could someone I only saw a few times a year know me that well?

Whatever his reason for stopping me was, he wasn’t going to say. That was also in typical Lyle fashion.

“You shouldn’t be out too late,” my mother warned him, sounding tired. “Especially if you’re not from the city. This neighborhood is pretty safe, but if you came from downtown, someone could have followed you here and jumped you once you were alone.”

Lyle nodded, though I knew he was only doing that to be polite. Lyle’s mother had forced all of her children to take martial arts as kids. Lyle and his older sister were the only ones who stuck with it until college. And I could tell with a quick glance that Lyle had been maintaining his intense workouts. Only someone wanting to get knocked out would mess with him.

I knew that from experience.

“That’s why I was going to head home,” Lyle told her, so polite I wanted to slug him. “I really just wanted to say hi when I saw you. You didn’t have to invite me in.”

I blinked at him, unamused. So he picked up on how much my mother obviously wanted him gone so she could yell at me in peace. Ever so astute.

“It’s better that you’re inside,” I said, glancing over my shoulders. “Reporters have been stalking us recently, so God forbid someone heard us and ran with a stupid story.”

Lyle let out a long breath. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

I didn’t say anything, letting the silence waft between us awkwardly. It didn’t bother me these days, but I could see Lyle and my mother squirm. After enough time passed for it to no longer be polite, I looked over at my mother. She met my gaze, huffing a bit before she stood.

“Well, it’s late,” she said, stating the obvious. “I’m going to bed. Andres, don’t keep him out too late. If he’s with his sister, I’m sure she’ll worry.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lyle said, smiling at her. “Sorry again for keeping you up.”

“Oh, you’re not the reason I’m still awake,” my mother said, smiling at him. She gave me a hard look before turning and heading for the stairs.

I watched her, listening to her footsteps until she was upstairs and heading to her room.

“Did you use me to stave off an argument?” Lyle accused, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Yes,” I said, sitting back on the couch. “Are you mad at me?”

Lyle chuckled, shaking his head. “Not really. Glad to see nothing’s changed in that regard.”

I smiled. “You say that like I’ve used you to get out of things before.”

“Don’t even start, Andres,” Lyle said, laughing. “Paris? _And_ Seoul?”

“Seoul wasn’t my fault. _You’re_ the one who stepped in and knocked that guy out. I didn’t ask you to.”

“So when you made eye contact with me across the bar and mouthed ‘help me,’ I was supposed to ignore that or something?”

“Or something.”

We both laughed, the tension breaking easily. I watched Lyle, remembering the last time I saw him. That early morning at the pool when it was just us. I never imagined getting the chance to see him again like this.

“Speaking of your Captain Save-a-Hoe tendencies,” I started, “what _are_ you doing here? For real?”

Lyle sighed at that, running a hand through his hair. He looked at the television for a bit, as if genuinely watching the father on the show run around the kitchen as he tried to put out a fire that spontaneously combusted from the pie he set on the counter.

“I was in the city—”

“And why were you in the city?” I asked, because he had every intention of bullshitting me.

“I was just—”

“Now, Lyle,” I said, flashing him my signature toothy smile. “Now, Lyle, we worked so hard on your honesty issues the last time I saw you. Don’t throw away all that progress.”

Lyle turned a pretty shade of red, glaring at me as he sat up straighter.

“Maybe you should stop harping on things. It’s not going to change,” Lyle snapped.

I had to smile. How many times had I heard that? Now that we were talking like the good old days, he’d stop treating me with kid gloves.

“What’s not going to change?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow. “The whole you thinking you’re straight thing, or—”

“You always turn it back to that.”

“I think you grossly underestimate how much your closet issues affect your communication skills.”

“You know,” Lyle started, then stopped as if not sure if he should go on. I frowned. I hated that pause everyone did around me now. He looked at me, and gave himself a small nod, deciding. “You know, I thought you were dead until a week ago.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, tilting my head at him. “Was that, like, really fucking traumatizing for you?”

“What? No. I mean, when you went missing, I didn’t even know anything about it. It didn’t make the news cycle in Toronto.”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

“Will you just shut up and listen for once? When you never returned my texts, I kinda got pissed. Well, not kinda. I _really_ got pissed. I thought you’d been leading me on and shit. I assumed you would have been at London a couple of months ago, so I spent all that time preparing what I would say I saw you. I gassed myself up with all this rage and anger, and I was ready to let you have it.

“Then I get there and you’re not there. And after asking around a bit, I found out that you’d been missing, with Jacob and Serenity and Dr. Gus and Dr. Beverly. And I realized that if all of you were missing, it must have happened on your way home. And if that was true, that meant I was the last one who saw you. And all this time I was angry, you were missing. I went to the worst-case scenario and decided that you’d died somewhere somehow.”

I shifted. Fucking morbid ass Lyle. Of course, he’d go there immediately. I couldn’t be too mad at him; what actually happened to me made me wish every day that I had just died somewhere, somehow.

“And, like, that shit really hit me, you know. And it scared me. And I thought about all the shit you’d been preaching at me, and I-I had to start being honest. I moved in with my sister, and then I finally let myself, you know, admit that I’m-that I like guys. And I came out to my parents and my brothers and everything.”

I blinked at him, sitting up straighter. “Wow. Way to go.”

Lyle shrugged. “It’s not like it’s been easy. I told my sister first, because I knew she wouldn’t mind with her weird ass. And she’s the one who told me to move out before I told our parents. And she’s the only one who didn’t disown me after.”

I let out a shaky breath, remembering the stories Lyle would tell me about his family. About how he stuck with martial arts way after his brothers did because his father was his teacher, and how his mother would take them all ice skating in the winter, and how she taught them all how to do simple jumps. His one little brother was only a year younger than him; they were raised like twins, he said. They grew up doing everything together.

I knew losing his brother had to hurt most. Even with his sister’s support, he went from having a huge family of seven, not including grandparents and aunts and uncles who visited often to just him and his sister against the world. I thought about my mother, and how annoyed I got with her when she’d just been concerned. I was her only child, and I’d already gone missing once. Of course she’d be scared if I was out late and not answering her calls.

I felt like a jerk for getting angry when she just cared enough to check in on me.

“I’m sorry, Lyle,” I said.

Lyle gave me a small smile, shaking his head. “Don’t be. My mom asks about me every time she talks to my sister. And Ian’s already been texting me a bit. Meanwhile, I’ve been on a few dates, and most of them have ended with me waking up the next day in their beds.”

I laughed at that, then reeled it in when I remembered my parents—my father, at least—was asleep upstairs.

“So I’m, what do the kids call it, living my truth?” Lyle ended, gaining more chuckles from me.

“I have to say,” I said once I got control of myself, “knowing that my disappearance helped you release your inner hoe makes me think maybe this was all worth it.”

Lyle shook his head, still smiling. “I don’t know. I think it would have happened anyway, if things had gone the way I hoped.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Lyle shrugged instead of answering, looking at the tv again.

“I’ve been working a lot the past couple of months,” he finally said. “I missed the media frenzy of what happened when you got back. My sister laughed at me when I told her about it because I was so late. But I was on a coffee date last week, and there were tvs on the news stations. It was a pretty shitty date—this dude kept trying to guess ‘what type of Asian’ I am—so I was already trying to figure out how to get out of it.

“Then I looked up at the screen and saw you get out of this black car. And even with those huge sunglasses, I could tell it was you. And I was trying to read the titles and everything, trying to see what they were saying.

“And it was live! And I freaked out and just left without saying anything to the guy. And as I’m on the train home, I’m just looking up your name and all these articles were coming up and I was-fuck, I don’t even know what all I was.”

I nodded, thinking of Evan’s handkerchief upstairs on top of my dresser. I remembered that day vividly.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head,” Lyle continued, pulling me away from thoughts of Evan. Thank God. “I would go to work and think about you. I would think about you on the train and in the shower and—”

“Please say you were thinking about me when you masturbated,” I said, smiling at him.

Lyle held back a smile. “You _always_ take it there.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Shut up,” Lyle laughed. “Yes. Even then. Happy?”

“Very,” I said, sitting back. “So let me try to work out the rest of this story. You kept thinking about me, and so you realized that you were still in love with me and had to fly out to try to win me back?”

“Yes,” Lyle said honestly. It actually startled me. “And no.”

“That was a yes _or_ no question, Lyle.”

“Yes, in that I _did_ realize that I still had feelings for you. And what happened to you interfered in whatever could have happened between us. And no as in we’re both adults; I’m not naïve or selfish enough to fly out here to try to get you to date me or something. I’m fully aware that that’s probably the last thing you want right now.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said, putting a hand over my heart. “If this night had to end with me turning you down, I would have been pissed.”

Lyle gave me his typical unamused look. “Thanks.”

“No, thank _you_.”

“Okay, anyway,” Lyle continued, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I still couldn’t just sit around doing nothing. I figured that if I couldn’t be, you know, with you, I could at least be near you. As a friend. And help you through this at least.”

I blinked at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s kinda boring,” I said, sighing. “And suspicious. What do you get out of it?”

Lyle shrugged. “Nothing really. But at the very least, I don’t want to always wonder what could have happened if I at least tried.”

“Tried what? I thought you said you weren’t going to try to get with me?”

“I’m not. I mean, I want you to get past this. I want you to be yourself again.”

I tensed at that. “I’m very much myself.”

“You’re whoever you needed to be when you were at the Willows.”

I bristled at that, standing and walking around the back of the couch. I messed with the curtains around the windows, wondering why they were still open. Probably so my mother would see when I got home. I closed them, suddenly feeling trapped with Lyle.

“I’m _very_ much myself,” I repeated before turning around.

Lyle didn’t fight me this time. He just nodded.

“Fine. Does that mean you don’t want to go back?”

“Of course not,” I snapped.

“Yeah. Good. Then I want to help you make sure you don’t have to.”

I felt my brow furrow at that. “What do you mean?”

“It took me a while to get out here because I’d been looking into your case. You know my sister is a lawyer, but she’s not too familiar with the laws between the Nation and Faust City. Faust City’s relationship is different than Canada’s, so she had to call around a bit. She wants to set up a meeting with someone who can help you.”

“I already have a lawyer,” I said. “Besides, what can this person do that my lawyer hasn’t already tried?”

“They beat the same system you’re fighting against,” Lyle said, smiling. “And they have friends in high places.”

I considered it. “How high?”

“All the way to the top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Another early post. 
> 
> I had no intention of introducing Lyle as a reoccurring character, but now that he's here, oh boy is there a lot of fun to be had! It's also not going to be long before we see some familiar faces, too. 
> 
> The plot is in full swing now. Just took 25K+ words to get there apparently. 
> 
> I'll reply to any comments once I get off work. This whole nonsense has me STRESSED. So, yeah. 
> 
> I ended up writing a really intense scene last night. Honestly not sure how I feel about it because it ended in a way I wasn't really expecting. I'm not sure I love it. If I was writing this story with the intent to publish it, it's definitely a chapter I would redo. But, we'll see how everyone feels once it's posted. 
> 
> I really like THIS chapter though. Lyle is such a nice guy. Don't worry for anyone anxious: it's not an act. He's just an actual, good human being. I want to write more of him with Andres. Someone commented that we really see three sides of Andres: who he was before, during, and after the Willows. Which is true. But since we don't get to see much of who he was before, it's only through the reaction of people in his life after that we get glimpses. 
> 
> Lyle, however, really brings out Andres' old personality. I'm really excited to get more opportunities to showcase that. 
> 
> As always, please feed my soul with comments! I'd appreciate the hell out of them! And you can follow me at aizenat.tumblr.com where I'm posting during this coronavirus panic. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It helps to have friends in high places...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of rape and abuse. 
> 
> Also, general warning for possible spoilers of Midsommar. Probably a weird warning, but you'll see why if you keep reading lol.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one of these before,” Kelvin said, as we walked up the stairs to the IRRC.

“Same,” I admitted, opening the glass door. “Why would we have any reason to?”

“True.”

The Immigrant and Refugee Rescue Center was the largest building on the block, and was only three blocks away from the municipal building. It was made of brick, long instead of tall, with a large lawn in the back in a way that few buildings in the city had. As soon as we walked inside, it opened up like a rec center, with many doors leading to different rooms, and hallways off to the side going to other parts of the building. Right in the middle of the wide space was a small desk that looked like it was rarely manned.

It currently wasn’t.

Lyle was standing by the desk next to a short woman who looked like his twin in the face. At least that was where their similarities ended. She was curvy and soft where Lyle was stocky and firm, and she had long black hair falling down her back. She was wearing a light, black sweater over a long, black dress and matching combat boots. She had a hoop nose ring and her hands had enough rings to open a jewelry store. She’d fit right in Faust City if she ever wanted to move.

“Hey,” Lyle said as we approached, smiling at me. He gestured to the woman next to him. “This is my sister, Gracie.”

“Hi,” she said, rather curtly, lifting up a hand. “You’re Andres?”

I nodded, then belated waved towards Kelvin. “This is my friend, Kelvin. Kelvin, this is Lyle.”

“So, you’re a smarty-pants like Andres?” Kelvin asked as he shook Lyle’s hand. Because Kelvin insisted on doing that sort of shit in this day and age.

“Smarter,” Lyle said with a cocky smile.

“In his dreams,” I amended.

“You’re really a lawyer?” Kelvin asked Lyle’s sister, Gracie.

Rather rudely. I glared at him, but Gracie just smiled.

“You should see me in court,” she said, moving to pull her hair up in a bun. Her hands moved expertly, as she twisted her hair up. “I look like an old school tiger mom. It’s like night and day. I’m a Gemini, so yeah.”

“What does being a Gemini have to do with anything?” Kelvin asked.

“Please don’t get her started,” Lyle interrupted. “We’re here for a reason, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gracie said, looking around. “Some girl was here earlier and was supposed to be looking for him. That was a while ago, though. We _could_ go looking around.”

 _Him_ being the guy Gracie knew who was supposed to help me. I only agreed to this meeting on the condition that it was public and I got to bring a friend. Gracie made one call in the morning, and now I was spending my Saturday afternoon not getting laid, and instead going to the IRRC to discuss my case with a stranger.

Riveting.

“Oh, there she goes,” Lyle said suddenly, nodding behind Gracie.

We all looked, watching as a tall woman walked over to us like the model she looked like. Her skin was that velvety smooth dark brown that was too beautiful to be real. She was wearing long, wide-legged, high waisted pants and a silky, sleeveless crop top that showed off a fashionable sliver of her torso and the easy ripple of her arms. Her hair was cut short and dyed a honey blonde, her lips plump and shining with gloss.

“Hi!” she said as she approached, a giant smile on her face. “So, Lu—ah, Kelvin?”

Kelvin froze, looking her up and down. We all watched, curious how they knew each other.

“Uh, do I know you?” Kelvin asked, confused.

The woman laughed, the sound lighthearted. “I guess you wouldn’t remember. You were focused on my friend, Camilla.”

Kelvin recognized that name, and frowned. “You work at Rouge?”

Ah. A prostitute. That wasn’t too surprising to find at the IRRC. Though I did side-eye Kelvin. He acted like he had too much game to resort to buying sex. And yet here was the proof in front of us.

“I do,” the woman said easily. I couldn’t blame her; if one had to be a prostitute, Rouge was the best place in the city to do it. “Tish. It was at that broker’s party right before New Year’s. I was the one that you were spa—”

“Right!” Kelvin said, looking more embarrassed now that he actually remembered. I barely held back a smile. “Tish! Right! You look good.”

“I always do. Your hand looks like it could use a workout.”

Kelvin chuckled awkwardly, glancing at me. I smiled, letting him sweat. If he thought Blue wasn’t going to hear about this as soon as we were out this building, he had another thing coming.

“So, you, uh, work here too?” Kelvin asked, obviously trying steer the conversation away from orgies.

“Volunteer,” Tish said. “Only the directors get paid to work here. And even then, it’s not a lot. It’s nice though; you get to help those down on their luck, and meet all sorts of people!”

Kelvin nodded as if he cared. “Sounds good.”

“Excuse me,” Gracie said, obviously bored from this conversation. “I hate to cut into to whatever this is, but is he here?”

“Oh, yes,” Tish said, turning to her. “He’s in the kitchen. We’re going to be partnering with some shelters in the area to start hosting soup kitchens here. Before that, we have to renovate them, so he’s been going over stuff with one of the organizers.”

“How nice. Is he coming out here?”

“Hm? Oh, no. You can just go back there. It’s through that hallway and it’s the last door on the right. Do you need me to show you?”

“No, no,” Gracie said, holding back her annoyance. “Thank you so much, dear.”

“No problem! Good luck!”

And before anyone could say anything else, Tish turned and walked toward the back of the building, disappearing into a room. I blinked, wondering if Tish wasn’t supposed to be up front, whose job it was to man this poor excuse of a reception desk.

“Whatever,” Gracie said, voicing my thoughts as she led us to the hall Tish had directed us to. “Let’s go.”

“We’re so lucky to run into your friend,” I said to Kelvin as we walked down the hall. “She’s cute.”

“Shut up,” Kelvin muttered, his dark skin turning even darker as he blushed.

“How come you’ve never spanked me? You know I’d let you if you asked.”

“Keep that up and I’ll stop fucking you all together.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Kelvin let out a deep growl. Gracie stopped at a door, knocking and looking at us as if to ask if that was weird before opening the door and walking inside. We all followed her, looking around.

The kitchen was huge, with stoves and stacked ovens lining the entire back wall. In the center was a giant island with pots and pans hanging from it. Cabinets lined the side walls, glass drawers showing off cooking aides and utensils. A window on one wall was open, letting in the light breeze from outside. At the center of the island was a woman with what looked like blueprints in front of her, her hair in a messy bun on top of her hair and a pair of glasses hanging around her neck by a bright pink string. She looked up at us as we walked in, raising an eyebrow.

“Here,” the man next to her said, pointing at something in the blueprints and getting her attention. “We need to add more wash stations for this to work. If we tear down this wall—”

“We’ll have to get zoning permits for that,” the woman interrupted. “That’ll force us to put an addition to the building.”

“I’ll worry about the zoning shit. I just want this wall down and then we’ll have the space for the stations. Then we can set it up like a conveyer, you know.”

“Okay,” the woman said, pulling a pen out of her pocket and writing things down on the blueprints. “I’ll bring it to Alexei.”

“Don’t,” the man said, straightening up and glancing at us. “Just make the notes and put it on my desk. I’ll talk to Alexei.”

The woman rolled her eyes, though she promptly made a few more notes before rolling up the blueprints and nodding at him. She left, eyeing us curiously as she passed us. The man walked around the island, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

Now that he was in front of the island, it was easier for me to get a look at him. He had that café-au-lait skin that reminded me—unfortunately—of Evan, complete with the hazel eyes. Granted, this man had more green in his eyes than Evan, and he was slighter and a bit shorter than him. In fact, he was slight in a familiar way; similar to me. His hair was cut short in a stylish and curly tapered afro, black and red tattoos lining his hands and arms.

I paused, looking at them. I recognized the symbols as sigils for protective spells. A shitload of them. I looked up, and saw that he’d been watching me look at his tattoos. There was a beat as we looked at each other, and all I saw was familiarity in his eyes. A sameness that I couldn’t quite place.

And the distinct impression that I’d seen him somewhere before.

His eyes finally left me, glancing at the rest of our group. He finally settled on Gracie, giving her a polite smile.

“Grace Chen?” he asked.

“Yes,” Gracie said, stepping forward. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Soren spoke highly of you,” the man said, glancing at me again. “You were looking for advice on a case?”

“Yes, though I’m sure you’re familiar with Andres’ story?”

“And which one of you is Andres?” the man asked, though he didn’t take his eyes off me.

I was pretty sure we were the same age, but something about him made him seem much older. So I raised my hand like a child.

“That’s me.”

“Andres,” the man repeated, then nodded. “Andres de la Vega. Yes, I’m a bit familiar.”

“Way to make a girl feel special,” I said, immediately regretting it.

The man stared at me, his face blank in a way that was very reminiscent of Evan. After a beat, he kicked himself off of the island, walking over until he right in front of me. We were the same height, I noted.

“I’m Lucca Leroux,” the man—Lucca—said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a vape pen. “You vape?”

“Only when I can steal it from someone else,” I said.

The man smiled, his face softening. “Do you feel safe taking a walk with me?”

I hesitated, glancing at the others. Gracie looked concerned.

“Lucca,” she started. “I think it’d be better if—”

“It’s up to you,” Lucca said to me, ignoring her. “Just around the building. I won’t take you anywhere nefarious. Promise.”

And to emphasize that, he lifted his hand, the red ink from his tattoos glowing as he drew a sigil in the air. I recognized it as an unbreakable vow. All I had to do was accept it. I lifted my hand, tracing the sigil. When I closed it, I let out a pulse of energy to match the magic hovering between us. With a sizzle only we could see, the promise was in effect. Lucca smiled.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here.”

~*~

The sun was low in the sky, not ready to set and leave the day just yet. The back of the IRRC opened out to a large lawn with flowerbeds and a small vegetable garden in one corner. We sat in the grass, no one outside to disturb us. And Lucca shared his vape pen while we talked.

“I remember that!” I said as I handed him back the pen, letting out a cloud of smoke. “That was, what? Almost five years ago?”

“Not quite,” Lucca said, tilting his head back as he took a deep hit.

“The Nation was making a big deal about that,” I recalled. “Did you really kill him?”

Lucca nodded, looking up at the sky.

“Shit,” I said, laying down in the grass. “I’m surprised they didn’t win that, then. How did you not get sent back?”

Lucca smiled, handing me back the pen after taking another hit. “I had a lot of things in my favor,” he said. “The biggest being they had no proof.”

“How did you do it?”

“Magic.”

“The Nation doesn’t know about that, right?”

“Nope. They had no way to prove how a pregnant surrogate, in labor, managed to kill a grown man. Not without the Nation opening that can of worms. And even then, it was obvious I had help getting out. They had no way to prove it was me and not one of them who actually killed him.”

“Got to love reasonable doubt,” I said with a laugh as I took a hit.

“Yup. Your mistake was leaving while he was still alive.”

I turned on the ground until I was on my stomach, handing him back his vape. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been out here talking, but once Lucca started sharing, it was easy for me to follow suit. I didn’t expect us to have similar stories. We were very different after all.

Lucca had been born and raised in the Nation. As a child, he was taken from his mother and sent to live at some weird boarding school that groomed him until he was eighteen. Then, a man—his childhood friend at that—bought him and raped him so Lucca could bear his children. When Lucca was in labor with his second child, he orchestrated an escape with some Faust City citizens. During the struggle, the man who raped him had been killed, and Lucca was now a free man.

His story of what a surrogate went through in the Nation was more on par to what I had expected. Lucca, in fact, had been shocked to hear about my tale of being forced into a cult and treated like a wife. At one point, he mused absentmindedly if things would have ended different for him if his childhood friend knew about a cult where he could marry Lucca instead of just buying him like chattel.

Lucca seemed so happy without his childhood friend in his life; free and confident. I felt lost. Unsure. The question the reporter yelled at me—if I loved Evan—was always spinning in my head. Evan’s words the last time I saw him, declaring his love for me sent flutters in my stomach even though I didn’t want it.

Lucca hated the man who trapped and raped him. I hated Evan, but I also didn’t hate him.

“I don’t think I could kill him,” I admitted to Lucca. “I think he got caught on fire in front of me, I’d do everything I could to put it out.”

Lucca let out a heavy breath. “Have you heard of traumatic bonding?”

I smiled and looked up at him. “You sound like my therapist.”

Lucca chuckled. “I looked to Monty for comfort all the time. I hated what he did to me, and yet I wanted him to make me feel better.”

I nodded. “What made you hate him, like, for real?”

Lucca didn’t answer right away. He took a hit of his vape, staring at the vegetable garden for a moment. When he did talk, his voice was flat, distant while he remembered.

“I don’t know if this has changed, but when I was in the Nation, surrogate babies weren’t allowed to stay with their families for more than two years.”

I bristled at that, sitting up. I’d never heard that before.

“I didn’t have a say in it,” Lucca said, looking up at the sky as he talked. “But Monty and Chelsea did. Or, rather, Monty did. If you choose to give up the baby at birth, you can adopt a baby. Like, as a replacement. Or, you can choose to raise the child for two years. Then at that two-year mark, the baby is taken to go to a Center.

“My mother had been lobotomized and impregnated a few times. When I was pregnant with my second, she was pregnant too. With a boy. I think we were even due around the same time. Or she was a bit after me. One day, when I found out that Monty had decided that my surro—sorry. My son is intersex. So Monty told me that he was going to let the Nation take him away immediately, and that he’d adopt my mother’s child.”

“That’s fucked up,” I told him.

“I know. He always thought I didn’t understand what he was doing. Why he was doing it. I had already decided that I was going to try to escape. But I think it was that moment that really pushed me over the edge. I’d been distancing myself already, but that showed me how far he was willing to go just to lord his power over me.”

I nodded, watching Lucca take another hit of his pen. All I could think about were all the moments with Evan where I thought he’d cross the line. By Lucca’s standard, I should want him dead. I have every reason to, especially now that he’s actively trying to force me back to the Willows.

So why didn’t I?

“You ever watch this old movie called Midsommar?” I asked when it was my turn to take a hit.

“I don’t watch movies,” Lucca said, shrugging.

“Like, as a rule?”

“Not really. They were nothing but propaganda in the Nation. So I can’t watch one without trying too hard to figure out what it’s trying to get me to think and believe. Takes the fun out of it.”

“This is a horror movie. But, like, one of those slow, indie ones. My friend, Blue, loves ‘em. It’s about this girl who goes with her boyfriend and his friends to this Swedish festival. It basically turns out to be a cult. When I talked about what the Willows was like, Blue would keep saying it reminded her of that movie, so I finally looked it up.

“There was this thing they would do where they would mirror people in pain. Like, this one guy jumps off a cliff, but he doesn’t die. So, until he does, he’s just crying, and everyone starts moaning and crying with him. There’s this one scene where the main character is really upset and she’s crying, and all these women get on the ground and cry with her. It’s weird because she’s upset and you can see her looking at them like, ‘what the fuck are they doing?’ But then she realizes why they’re doing it, and she just keeps crying and they’re all in sync.”

“That’s fucking weird,” Lucca said, taking back his pen when I gave it back. “The Willows did shit like that?”

“Not exactly,” I said, sitting up. “It was similar, but not quite the same. Like, whenever things happened, someone would always be there. There was this time that he-Evan, he…”

My words trailed off as I went back to that sunny day on that platform in front of everyone on the compound. Looking up to seeing Evan’s face, holding me and encouraging me the entire time. It hurt to think about it; to remember it. I hadn’t spoken about it yet, not even to my therapist.

“You don’t have to say it,” Lucca said, his voice gentle. “There are things I don’t talk about either.”

I shook my head. “No, I—I mean, it was the one time in particular that it happened to me, but I saw it a lot, you know? So, like, this one time, he had me gang raped.” My voice broke at those words, and I had to take a second, my eyes on a dandelion in front of me for focus. “And, he held me down during it. But it wasn’t just him. There were a couple of women, and some of the other surrogates, and they were there next to me too.

“And, the thing is they’re there to hold you down. Like, I could have fought against Evan, but not against all of them. And they’re telling me how good I’m being when I don’t fight back, and they’d wipe my tears and tell me they’re so proud of me, and—”

I shook my head. Lucca didn’t respond, just watching me. I was glad he didn’t say anything; I wanted to get this out.

“Like,” I started again once I could speak without my voice cracking, “Evan didn’t beat me often. He’d have to hit me a bit, but he never, like, beat me except this one time. And when he did it, his fucking mother was right there next to me, holding my fucking hand. And she fucking hates me, but she was there because that what they do there.

“I never understood it until I watched that movie. I thought it was just a stupid system to make everyone complicit in what was happening. But when I watched that movie, I realized it was the same fucking thing. Like how the girl in that movie realized the other girls were crying with her to show that they are sympathetic to her pain. And they hear her and are there for her. It’s why she chooses to stay at the end; because they’re willing to embrace her like family.

“At the Willows, they weren’t stupid enough to cry with us like they were in pain too. But they were there. And—” I hesitated, trying to put words to what I had felt then. “And it made it _easier_. Because it wasn’t just me; anytime someone had to be disciplined, or whatever, someone would be there to talk them through it. It was their way of saying they were there for each other. And even though I hated it, it made it so much easier.”

And that was why, I realized, I couldn’t make myself hate Evan. Because even though I knew what I’d been through was horrible, it didn’t feel that bad in retrospect. I wasn’t alone in my experience; it was just what I had to go through because I was a surrogate wife. All wives had to submit in that way at the Willows. I wasn’t special. And none of it was out of spite: there was a reason for it all.

At least that was what I was telling myself. The way they did things made it easy for me to make excuses for what I went through. To minimize what it was. Minimize how it impacted me. And if it wasn’t that big of a deal, then what did I have to be mad at Evan for? For doing his job as my husband?

Listening to Lucca’s story, he was alone in his misery. Even if he tried to compare war stories, his experience was unique. That made it harder to justify it. Harder to accept it. Harder to allow it. And that meant it was easier for him to hate Monty.

But the Willows had mastered the art of creating a new normal that kept everyone connected. Kept everyone from getting indignant on how they were being treated. Kept everyone from forming animosity for what was happening to them. You can’t get upset over how you’re being treated if you’re being treated the same as everyone else. Even if everyone is being treated like shit.

“I ask myself sometimes why I’m even fighting it,” I admitted, avoiding Lucca’s gaze. “I feel like it’ll just be easier to go back.”

“Do you want to go back?”

I blinked away tears as I shook my head. “No. But if I have to fight this hard to stay, why do it? Isn’t it just easier to do what he wants?”

And tears did fall then. Because thinking that way meant the Willows had done their job and done it well. That’s what all of it was about: showing that submission was the better option. They would persist and push until all I could do was lie down and surrender. Until all I wanted to do was lie down and surrender.

“Was it easier?” Lucca asked after a beat. “Was it easier being there, doing what they wanted you to do?”

I shook my head again, wiping away tears. No, it wasn’t. It had been insanely difficult. I hated every second of it. It was the very reason I ran away. Why I had to get out.

“So you know it’s a lie. This is what they’re goal is. You know that, right? They don’t have a leg to stand on in this case. You three are all Faust City citizens. No judge in their right mind would force you back, especially when you’re all claiming you don’t want to go back. That’s not why they’re doing this. They’re doing it because they want you to _choose_ to go back. They want to break you so you’ll go back without them needing a court order. That’s their end goal.”

I nodded, wondering why I saw it so clearly once Lucca spelled it out. How wasn’t it not obvious before? Lucca moved, then, standing up and pocketing his vape. I followed, wiping away the stray tears I missed earlier.

“Give me your lawyer’s number,” Lucca said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll arrange a sit down with the woman who won my case. She’s better at navigating the international politics of it all; she might be too busy to take your case, but she’ll at least help your lawyer build a better one for you guys.”

“You’d do that?” I asked. “We’re not actual refugees or anything.”

Lucca shook his head, giving me a gentle smile

“I always help out wherever I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at Lucca, all grown up! 
> 
> It hasn't quite been five years yet; Lucca knows because the anniversary of when he arrived in Faust City is the same day as his son's birthday! And Angel isn't quite 5 yet! :3
> 
> I have to admit that Lucca doesn't play a big role in this one, but I had to throw him in here. He'll also be a segway for you guys to see what another Before the Fall character has been up to. Don't know who though. I might be making stuff up. Who knows? I'm not, but no more teasing. I'm done. 
> 
> The IRRC will play a bigger role in later stories, but I really wanted to introduce it some. The IRRC is a center that explicitly works with helping integrate people from other countries. It was originally designed as a bit of a center to help Nation escapees, but they legally can't call themselves that because that would imply that the Nation is somewhere people want to escape from. It's really the first step anyone entering the city (aside from tourists, of course) should go. They have resources for housing (group homes, low-income housing programs etc), schooling, and job placement. All a newbie has to do is show up, register, and profit (loljkjk). 
> 
> It'll come up again. Lucca is a volunteer; by this point, he's finishing up nursing school and will start practicing soon! He does a lot of work with the directors of the center, so much so that they let him plan and run a lot of stuff. Wonder if he'll get promoted soon. :3
> 
> Alexei, since he's not showing up in this story (just a name drop), is the current director of the IRRC. Suspicious? You should be; A-names are suspicious in this series...
> 
> Tomorrow will be the last day of this post bomb, and then we're back to weekly updates. Sigh. My job MIGHT be looking into figuring out how to get us to work from home. If so, that would be perfect because with how slow things are right now, I know I'd be able to write in between working. So if that happens, just know that another bomb might be coming. 
> 
> I'd have to get further ahead, though. This bomb got us a lot closer to where I currently am in the story. I have MORE than enough padding for the weekly uploads, but it might take a bit for another bomb to come. Especially because I've hit a bit of a block. Whoops. 
> 
> But if I can get past it and if I can spend this upcoming week knocking out a few chapters, a bomb could be on the horizon! Pray for me to get the writing bug! 
> 
> Honestly, writing has been the only thing keeping me sane in all of this mess. It's so hard trying to remain calm while everyone around you is acting like a lunatic. So I'm going to write my own deliverance. 
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!


	12. Chapter 12

“Go get Mother.”

One of the girls in a white dress nodded, looking at my locs with a frown. After the long interview and another few minutes of having my picture and fingerprints taken, Mother escorted me to another room. This one was also set up like a classroom, though the desks were all pushed to the side and there were large, plush pillows on the ground. Three girls and two intersex boys had been sitting there chatting and talking when Mother introduced me. They looked a bit younger than me, though one of the girls looked to be closer to thirty than the others.

She had taken the lead, introducing herself as Laura Mae, and leading me to their array of pillows to sit. She offered me sandwiches packed with meat, tomatoes, and onions, and all but shoved fruit down my throat. She was almost as tall as me, round and honey skinned with dark, wavy hair and eyebrows thicker than her waist. She didn’t let anyone talk to me while I ate, and when Serenity walked in to join us, she gave her the same treatment.

Once Serenity and I had eaten enough for them to be allowed to talk us, one of the younger girls immediately started playing with my hair. I had to stop myself from snapping at her; I had seen a few women with long princess locs, so I wasn’t sure why she was so fascinated with mine. It wasn’t until the girl got Laura Mae’s attention that Laura Mae’s lips twisted in a frown before she gave the girl that order.

“Go get Mother.”

“Is there something wrong with my hair?” I asked, happy once the girl had skipped out of the room. I glanced at the two boys, one with wavy hair not quite hitting his shoulders, and the other with rather sizable curly afro. Stretched out, I was sure his hair was almost as long as mine. “It can’t be the length.”

“No,” Laura Mae said, giving me a tight smile. “Not the length. It’s just the style is _unbecoming_ a surrogate.”

I glanced at Serenity, who seemed just as confused as me. She shrugged, popping a grape in her mouth. I was afraid to ask, but if they were going to do something drastic to my hair, I needed to know.

“What’s wrong with the style?” I finally bit.

“It’s very _feminine_ ,” Laura Mae said.

Now I was even more confused. One of the boys laughed—the one with the curly fro—and turned to me.

“She doesn’t want to be offensive,” he explained. “Here at the Willows, we’re particular about gender presentation is all. Men look one way, women another. As surrogates, we’re not quite either, so _we_ shouldn’t look like either.”

I nodded, though that didn’t really answer my question. What the fuck did that have to do with my fucking locs? Sure, women wore locs too, but men have been wearing locs for centuries. Some so long that it falls down their back. Since when were locs a female exclusive hairstyle?

“Oh,” the boy said, tilting his head at me. “You still don’t get it.”

“You’re not explaining it right,” the other boy said, looking rather tired. He turned to me. “It’s because it’s down your back. Here, only women are allowed to have their hair go down their back like that. So we can’t do things like braids or deadlocks because it looks like a mockery of what the women are supposed to look like. If your hair was out in an afro like Shiloh’s or something, you’d be fine.”

“Hi, I’m Shiloh,” the other boy said, laying on the floor and reaching for the tray of fruit.

I exchanged glances with Serenity, who looked just as bemused as I felt. Was everyone in this place a happy-go-lucky idiot? The door opened, grabbing our attention. Mother walked in with the girl Laura Mae sent to get her in tow. Behind them both was Jacob, who looked a bit worse for wear.

Mother sat down next to me. She was so close that I wanted to move away, but I had enough sense to know not to do that. Her hands went straight to my locs, lifting them and rubbing them in her fingers. I didn’t move, watching instead as Serenity reached out to Jacob. He took her hand, letting her guide him to the floor. He’d been crying again, but his eyes were currently dry. For now.

“We only have a few hours,” Mother said to no one in particular. “We’re going to need everyone in here to fix this.”

“Are we going to have time to wash it?” Shiloh asked, sitting up. His face was a bit more serious now that Mother was in the room.

“No. That will have to wait until tomorrow. Still, go get Kian. And as many girls who know how to take these out.”

“Take them out?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just cut them?”

“Yes, it would be,” Mother said, giving me a hard look. “I’m sure you’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?”

I wasn’t sure why she was challenging me on that, nor asking me when we both knew I didn’t have a say over what was about to happen to my hair. I looked her in the eye when I answered.

“I’d prefer it to stay exactly how it already is.”

Laura Mae tense, as did the other girls and the other surrogate. Shiloh failed to hold back a smile as his eyes widened. He watched mother intently, with obvious excitement. Mother met my gaze, her face not giving way to any emotion.

“Laura Mae, Ashley, Rebecca, and Waylon,” she said, her eyes still on me. “I’m pretty sure I gave all a directive.”

“Yes, Mother,” they all said in unison, standing and following each other out.

Shiloh shifted to his knees, watching the others leave.

“Shiloh,” Mother said.

“Yes, Mother?” Shiloh said, his face perking up immediately.

“Your husband is looking for you.”

Shiloh’s face got so bright that you’d thought he just heard God himself wanted to invite him to be one of his archangels. He moved, as if preparing to get up.

“He is?” he asked in that ditzy way I was getting too used to. “Did he say anything else?”

“Just that you forgot something this morning. He said he needs to address it before dinner.”

“Oh,” Shiloh’s face fell a bit, his smile less genuine. “Okay.”

“You should go find him.”

Shiloh nodded, finally getting to his feet.

“Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother.”

Shiloh quickly moved to door, pausing to wave at us behind Mother’s back. As soon as the door closed behind him, Mother’s hand was back in my hair. Only this time, she gripped a handful of locs, near the root, and pulled with more force than I expected. I was thrown off balance, to the floor, Mother’s strong grip holding me there beneath her. I heard Jacob gasp and Serenity call out in my defense.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice angry. “Let him go!”

“Be still, child,” Mother said, pressing down on my head even harder until my cheek was on the floor. “Or I just might yank a few of these awful things from his head.”

I heard Serenity’s heavy breath, feeling her eyes on me. I heard her move, though Mother must have been satisfied by whatever she did because her grip loosened a bit. I didn’t move though; I’d heard her message loud and clear. So I stared at the bottom of the door, using it to focus.

“That slick mouth of yours,” Mother said, now talking to me, “is unbecoming a surrogate wife. I will advise my son to work on that with you. Isn’t that sweet of me?”

I felt my breath get heavier as I tried to control my anger. If I didn’t have those stupid bracelets that Evan put on me, I would have electrocuted her ass. Or maybe just shoved her against the wall with enough force to snap her spine. Something at least to get her hand off me.

But I didn’t have my magic. I was stuck on the ground, helpless. As if to emphasize that, Mother’s grip tightened. I winced at the dull pain.

“I expect answers when I ask questions,” Mother told me. “Now, isn’t it sweet of me to guide my son in how to handle you?”

I pressed my eyes together, hatred flooding my veins.

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You should thank me for being so kind.”

“Thank you.”

Her grip tightened.

“Address me properly when you thank me, child.”

I wondered, briefly, how much trouble I would be in with Evan if I actually physically attacked his mother. Deciding against it, though, I took another breath in and out.

“Thank you. _Mother_.”

“Good boy,” she cooed, finally letting go of me. “I hope you’re a lot quicker with the other lessons you need to learn. I’d hate for my son to struggle as much as I am in educating you.”

I moved to sit up, my scalp throbbing when she had pulled at my hair. I looked her in the eye, matching her fiery gaze. Everything in me wanted to cuss her out, rage at her, and tell her just what I thought of her, her son, and this bullshit cult. I opened my mouth, wanting so desperately to say everything on my mind.

“I’ll be quicker in the future,” I said instead.

Mother smiled a victorious smirk, giving me one short nod.

“Wonderful. Then there is hope for you yet.” She moved to stand, smiling at Jacob and Serenity while she did it. “You three keep each other company until the others come back. There’s quite some time to get you ready for the wedding ceremony tonight. Everyone is very excited to have you all here at the Willows. I will see you soon, my children.”

And then, with a pointed glance at me, she turned and left the room. We watched her leave, our eyes stuck on the door as if not believing she was truly gone.

“That woman is fucking psycho,” Serenity spat. When I turned to look at her, her face was scrunched in disgust. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What was she talking about with her son?” Jacob asked me, looking at me.

I hesitated, feeling oddly embarrassed. How did I explain to them that they had just met my future mother-in-law?

“They made me sign a marriage license,” I started. My stomach twisted as I remembered it. “To the man who I was in the car with for a while. Turns out that was _her_ son.”

“Fuck,” Serenity said, letting out a heavy breath. “I don’t envy you.”

“I had to sign one too,” Jacob said, his eyes drifting back to the door. “To the man who—w-who…”

His voice trailed off, and Jacob didn’t finish his thought. He didn’t need to; Serenity and I both knew who they made him marry. And it was fucked up. I felt my heart drop a bit, watching his eyes get distant. I could only imagine how dark his thoughts were. How miserable he felt in this moment. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but with everything that happened, I didn’t want to upset him any further.

“So,” Serenity said after the silence got uncomfortable. “So, I got married too. To a woman.”

I looked at her, Jacob’s head slowly turning back to the conversation.

“What?” I asked. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Serenity said, her brow furrowing. “It’s so weird. Like, I saw her at the end of the-um, the interview. Because she had to sign the license too. And, like, she told me her name is Michaela, but to call her Mike.”

“Is she, like, trans or something?” Jacob asked, his face deadpan and his voice hollow.

“I don’t think so? Only because when everyone talks about her, they don’t use masculine pronouns or anything. And when she was talking to me, she asked me if I liked girls. And when I said yes, she said I lucked out. But I don’t understand, like, what her deal is.”

I thought about my hunch earlier; this entire cult acting as an experiment. I hadn’t seen any other women on the compound like Mike. Maybe I just didn’t recognize them. What made Mike so special that she didn’t have to play by the same rules as every other woman on the compound? An affinity for woman would be a problem for any woman born in the Nation, especially at the Willows.

Unless…

“Ask her if she can have children,” I told Serenity.

Her eyes widened, catching on immediately.

“Oh, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mother-in-laws can be difficult. 
> 
> Or something lol. 
> 
> Don't really have much to say. I woke up really late today, and had a really weird dream that has me feeling off. Then all I did was my hair and watch Black Lightning, which is getting mad dark. It's almost five as I post this, and this day really just lost me. Just going to eat, shower, and watch more Black Lightning until it's time for bed, I guess. 
> 
> I really hope I find out I get to work from home tomorrow. If so, I'll post an extra chapter this week. 
> 
> If you don't hear from me again until next Sunday, you'll know why. :(
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone is taking care of themselves right now. I'm not, so yay! Do better than me.


	13. Chapter 13

“Stop that.”

I looked up at Lucca, watching him from across the small café table. He’d insisted on meeting in the French quarter, where there was a small café he said I would like. The cappuccinos we ordered were fine, but sitting outside next to the busy street was stressing me out. Since the media circus surrounding my situation, being out in public spaces typically meant getting recognized. Why Lucca thought meeting in the busiest area of the city was a good idea was beyond me.

As such, I’d taken to watching everyone who walked by, looking for someone trying to sneak a photo or pulling out their phone to alert the press. The media would have a field day if they saw I was meeting Lucca.

“No one is paying attention to you,” Lucca tried again when I didn’t stop tracking people.

“I’m pretty sure everyone is,” I said, meeting the eye of two girls walking by.

“They’re looking at you because _you’re_ staring them down. If you relaxed, you’d see that no one cares.”

I darted my eyes to Lucca, watching him calmly sip his coffee.

“Bourbon Street is right over there. This is the busiest place in the entire city.”

“Busy with _tourists_ ,” Lucca explained, giving me a patient smile. “Not citizens. No one who lives in Faust City would waste time coming out here. No one here is going to recognize you.”

I took a sip of my cappuccino, watching people from the corner of my eye. Without me tracking them, I found that Lucca was right: no one was paying attention to us. It was easy to see that mostly everyone aside from the shop keepers were visiting; they had cameras or their phones out snapping pictures of almost everything. A group of girls were using a selfie stick to take a picture outside the café’s sign, an older couple had their hands filled with bags filled with trinkets that airport security was likely going to confiscate, and a couple of boys were using their phones’ GPS to try to find a gambling hall.

“I’ve never hung out here to notice,” I said absentmindedly.

“Exactly.”

“Less likely for someone to overhear us out here,” a woman’s voice said behind me. “Inside would be so quiet that everyone would be in on our conspiracy.”

I turned, watching as a beautiful woman walked around the table and placed her large, designer bag in the empty seat between Lucca and me. She bent down to kiss Lucca on both cheeks, her kinky hair large and obstructing her face until she turned to look at me. Her eyes were large and almond shaped, framing her face well, her skin an even mahogany that made me think oddly of Serenity.

“I recognize you,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand. I took her hand, surprised by her firm grip. “Andres de la Vega. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am Anya Lorenzo.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that Italian?”

“My husband was, yes,” she said, sitting down. “Distantly so; everyone is a little mixed with something these days. Excuse me, young lady.” She waved down the waitress seating a young couple, the two boys taking pictures of the menu. “Can I please get a double shot of espresso and a two white chocolate lattes to go? Thank you.” She turned back to us, smiling and opening her arms as if about to declare a new world order. “I haven’t had to breastfeed in six months; I am officially back on caffeine!”

“So you’re going with a double espresso and two lattes?” Lucca asked, shaking his head. “Most people ease into it.”

“Oh, the second one is for my assistant. She’s been kicking ass lately, so I wanted to get her a little treat.”

“Won’t it get cold by the time you get there?” I asked.

“Nonsense. It’s a simple spell to keep coffee hot.”

I nodded. So Anya was a magic practitioner as well. She looked me up and down, smiling as if she approved of my general look.

“My, my,” she said, leaning on the table. “You’re much cuter in person. No wonder the Willows wants you back; the babies you’d have would be to die for!”

“Anya,” Lucca said, reaching for his cappuccino. “Focus.”

“Right! Sorry! You probably don’t want to hear that anyway. So, Lucca said you wanted my advice on this case.”

“You’re a lawyer?” I asked.

“Yes. Though technically an advocate. I’m in charge of the Immigrant and Refugee Advocacy branch of the Foreign Relations department for the city.”

“Oh wow,” I said. That sounded important. “This is probably outside of your jurisdiction then.”

“Not entirely,” Anya said, leaning back. “That’s actually what so odd about this case; it’s being treated as though you all are immigrants when you’re City citizens. This should be an open-and-shut case.”

“So you’re familiar with it?”

“Oh yes. It’s been quite the talk for us law nerds. And with a lot of politicians. Even Al’s been watching it.”

“Al?” I said, feeling my body go cold. “As in Al Faust?”

As in the leader of the Faust City whose family the city got its name? Despite the masculine name, Al Faust was the matriarch of the city. Her family fought in the war years ago that won Faust City it’s right to be independent of the Nation. On top of that, she was the strongest magic practitioner in the city, and had her thumb on the pulse of any and all business and trade in the city. Nothing happened that she didn’t know about.

Anya nodded. I took another sip of my coffee. While it was surprising to hear she’d heard about my case, it was surprising to hear that Al Faust was _watching_ it.

“Anya,” Lucca said again, as if Anya had left something out.

Anya looked at him, her brow furrowed before understanding lighting up her face.

“Oh!” She said, turning to me. “Right. Excuse me. My maiden is Faust, though I go by my late husband’s name professionally. I’m Al Faust’s younger sister.”

I didn’t really have a response to that, though I knew I looked silly just gaping at her. Lucca didn’t say shit about me meeting a fucking Faust today!

“Sorry,” Anya kept going, laughing. “Lucca always throws a hissy fit when people don’t know that I’m Al’s sister because he didn’t know when we met. It’s like a thing with him.”

“Stop acting like you don’t do it on purpose,” Lucca told her.

“Lucca, we don’t have time to get into the complex relationship I have with my sister where despite my love for her, her insufferable attitude and horrifying reputation means that it’s easier for me to do my job when my clients don’t know we’re related. Now, Andres—”

Anya paused while the waitress returned with her coffees. There was a lot of awkward movement and pleasantries exchanged before we were alone again.

“Right,” Anya said, finding the creamer on the table and pouring some in the espresso. “Now your case, Andres, is a simple one in terms of the results. Again, you and your cohorts are all Faust City citizens. Meaning no one can force you back to the Nation without your permission. Or, rather, the government will not force you back to the Nation. Even if your arbitration goes horribly wrong and this does go to court, our laws are absolute. No judge in this city would rule against you guys.”

I let out a breath, happy to hear that. If that was the case, then there was nothing to worry about. Evan had no power here; he couldn’t force me back to the Willows as long as I didn’t want to go.

“I don’t believe that their mission is to win in the court of law,” Anya continued, pausing to down her espresso. I watched her, distantly wondering if she was crazy.

“They’re trying to draw it out,” Lucca said, fiddling with his now empty cup.

Anya nodded, finishing her drink and quickly moving on to one of the lattes.

“Yup. The goal is to make this whole thing so much of a spectacle, so obnoxious and time consuming and overwhelming that you three _agree_ to go back.”

I felt my heart start to pound then, thinking of what I had told Lucca just the other day.

_If I have to fight this hard to stay, why do it?_

I met Lucca’s eyes, his sympathetic look confirming my thoughts. I was already losing my stamina. I had already played around with the idea of going back just to make things easier. How long would Evan draw this out? A couple more months? Or years?

“Shit,” I finally said, sitting back in my seat.

“Yeah,” Anya said, watching me. “A lot of these international situations draw media attention. Of course the Nation is reporting it one way while our country handles it differently, but there are a lot of questions being raised that make for more sensational headlines. Even here. Are you aware of what the narrative is being spun about you?”

I shook my head. Jenn and my parents both said it was better to not look at any news articles or opinion pieces on the situation. And I honestly didn’t want to hear what people who weren’t there at the Willows with me had to say about what should happen with me. They didn’t have the right to that opinion.

Still, now I was a bit worried. The reporter who asked me if I loved Evan; where had he gotten that idea?

Anya moved, pulling out her phone. I watched her, as she scrolled through something before putting her phone on the table pushing it towards me. I looked down and frowned at the headline.

_Lover’s Quarrel Turns into an International Scandal!_

“I really hate to say this,” Anya said, her voice gentle as she spoke, “but a lot of the news’ focus is on you. Evan is leading this, and since you were the one married to him, that puts the spotlight on you. Evan is insisting that you and he had a loving relationship, and that you turned tail and ran when you two argued on ways to get you pregnant.”

The article, I quickly realized as I skimmed through it, had just been posted three days ago. And it had direct quotes from Evan.

_We clicked from the moment we met._

_Andres loved being at the Willows; he felt loved there._

_He happily submitted to me._

_I love him. I just want him to come home._

I felt my breath speed up, his words coming back to me.

_I don’t need some silly reason to love you._

“He’s claiming that Jacob and Serenity were lied to by traffickers, and drug you in,” Anya said. “That if left to your own devices, you wouldn’t have chosen to leave. And that you’re only staying around because you feel guilty leaving your parents. And because you know Jacob and Serenity don’t want to go, so that you leaving will poke holes in their story.”

“He’s good,” Lucca muttered, frowning. “It’s a good spin.”

“It doesn’t help that no one from the other camp is saying anything. Andres, I’m sure your lawyer has advised against it, but if you guys don’t truly state your cases, the media scrutiny over this will drive you back into his arms. If you really do want to stay here, you have to fight fire with fire.”

I pushed Anya’s phone back to her. I felt sick. I had no idea that Evan was spinning this narrative. And Lucca was right; it was a good one. And it didn’t help that I was constantly balking around him. As far as anyone watching me knew, I did love him.

I let out a heavy breath.

“Are you able to take on the case?” I asked Anya.

Anya smiled. “Not officially, no. But I’d gladly speak to your lawyer and help her as best I can. What’s their name? I’ll have my assistant set up a meeting.”

“Jenn Kincaid.”

“Oh, I like her. She’s good with high profile cases.”

As we sat there going through possible schemes to get the Willows off our case, I felt my resolve get stronger. I didn’t get this far just to get this far: Evan wasn’t going to break me. I was done letting him have power over my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I have lots of news and announcements. But before I begin, thank you so much for reading. I hope you all are staying safe, healthy, and sane during all this chaos. I live in New Jersey, which is really getting hit hard from all this COVID-19 stuff, so self care is really important. 
> 
> In fact, this brings me to my first point: I said I would upload today if I got to work from home, and that isn't what happened. But I'm still posting? What's going on? My job decided to split us up in pods where we have to work, but it's for less days and with only half our staff. The idea being that if one pod gets infected/exposed, the other pod will still be there to work. 
> 
> Our workload (at least in my department) can handle it, so it's no big deal. The way it worked out, I have to work three days a week for twelve hours. This schedule started today (since our pay week starts on Wednesday), and I work Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday now. Meaning I get four days off, starting today, before I have to go back. 
> 
> Thus why I'm not at work and am able to post today. 
> 
> However, you probably noticed that I have to work on Sundays. So you might be wondering what this means for the upload schedule. Here is where I have some unfortunate news. 
> 
> I mentioned in the notes of my last upload that I've hit some blocks with the story. And, to be quite honest, while writing has been helping me a bit with all this, it's also been a huge source of my stress and anxiety. Especially now that I only have like 3 chapters to post before this story caught up with me. And you all know that that does NOT fly with me. 
> 
> And while this work schedule thing may only last this week, it could potentially last a month or so. With everything going on, as I said earlier, self-care is really important. My anxiety has been at a ten, my insomnia is rearing it's ugly head, and I'm just not doing well if I have to be honest. The uncertainty of all of this is just fucking with me, and so I'm going to spend the rest of this month, and April, focusing on self care. 
> 
> For right now, I'm taking a break with writing too. My writing schedule has caused me to really neglect taking care of myself. And since this current work schedule will end up interfering with my upload schedule anyway, I'm just taking a pause. I do apologize because I KNOW that unreliable upload schedules can be frustrating, especially when it's so common for writers to get to a good part in a story and then abandon the story for years. 
> 
> I will NOT being doing that. No matter what, at the LATEST, I will be returning on May 1st with new chapters. In fact, to make up for this, since May starts on a Friday, I will do a weekend bomb where I'll upload on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before resuming my original Sunday upload schedule. I want to give you guys a definitive date where you know when I'll be back. 
> 
> With that said, I may still upload sporadically throughout the next five (ish) weeks. I also will likely still end up writing and banging through this block after a couple weeks or so off (it's always when I say I'm going to take a break from writing that I get bit with the writing bug, so...). Meaning that when I return, it will (hopefully lol) be with at least ten chapters written and enough of a gap that there won't be any issues uploading. 
> 
> Until May, since any and all uploads will be unscheduled, I highly suggest bookmarking this work so you can get emailed if/when I upload. Or you can just catch up on May 1st. 
> 
> I'm really sorry I'm even doing this, but I have to prioritize myself and my health. Especially during this pandemic. I will be posting sporadically on my tumblr if you want to follow: aizenat.tumblr.com. 
> 
> And I hope you all are taking this time to take care of yourselves as well. Thank you for your understanding! Stay safe!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon-na get maa-a-a-ried~

"Now that didn’t take too long!” 

I nodded, looking at my reflection in the mirror Laura Mae held up for me. Not long after Mother left, Laura Mae returned with a hoard of women and surrogates. The youngest ones surrounded Jacob, immediately introducing themselves and sitting next to him to talk. The older ones came over to me and Serenity, welcoming us and offering us water, or to escort us to the bathroom if we needed it.

Leading them was a surrogate with brown skin and a thick afro that looked shiny and well managed. He didn’t speak as he approached me and immediately picked up a few of my locs, rolling them between his fingers. He then reached into my scalp, running fingers down the back of my head.

“Seven,” was all he said.

Without a word from the others, two girls carrying large, linen bags dropped them on the ground. Four women and three surrogates reached in them, pulling out spray bottles with water in them, as well as fine toothed combs and bottles of what looked like a white cream. They sat down around me, not even asking before they each grabbed a loc and went to town.

It had been a long process; at least four hours if I was going by the way the shadows under the sun moved when I looked outside. Once my hair was out, the surrogate—who hadn’t said a single word throughout the entire process while all the others working on my hair wouldn’t shut up—grabbed more of the white cream and another honey-colored jar that smelled like mint when he opened it.

“Mother said to braid the front, right?” Laura Mae asked, watching while a few of the others left or hung around to talk to Serenity.

The surrogate nodded, dragging a chair from one of the ones piled against the wall and setting it down behind me. Laura sat next to me, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Kian’s pretty rough when he braids. Sorry.”

I nodded, noting the surrogate’s name. He was the one Mother told Laura Mae to get then. Sure enough, he took one of the fine-tooth combs and started to part the front of my hair. Laura Mae watched, fascinated.

“You’re going to look so pretty,” she mused. “I can’t believe you’re marrying Evan. Every girl and surrogate here has a crush on him.”

I didn’t really have anything to say to that, so the rest of the women still lingering decided to divulge stories of the crushes they used to have on Evan. I quietly winced through the whole thing, watching a group of girls return with baskets of wildflowers. They sat next to Jacob, immediately showing him how to twist the stems into flower crowns. Jacob looked a little better having something to focus on.

One of the women who helped take my hair out pulled Serenity over so they could weave flowers into her twists.

“Do you think Evan would like flowers in his hair?” Laura Mae asked one of the other women.

“Not excessively,” the woman said, frowning at me. “Maybe a half-crown right where the braid ends?”

“Yes! Perfect. Layla, bring some over here so I can make one too.”

After another hour of having my hair yanked and braided, Laura Mae placed her white and yellow flower crown on top of my head. she almost squealed as she held up the mirror. I looked, feeling odd. I’d spent a long time with my locs; it was odd seeing myself without them.

Especially with as feminine a hairstyle as I had. My curls weren’t defined, instead forming a fluffy and dark cotton halo around my head. The braids in the front ended at the flower crown, keeping my hair off my face. It made my face look slighter, smaller, and less like me.

I hated it.

“I love it,” Laura Mae declared proudly, as if it was her hairstyle she was showing off. “Kian, another masterpiece.”

Kian was behind me, packing up all the hair products. He simply shrugged. Laura Mae rolled her eyes at me, setting the mirror aside.

“Kian likes to pretend he doesn’t like anything, but he loves it when you compliment his work.”

“I’m right here,” Kian said, his voice flat. “Can I go now?”

“Nope. You’re stuck here until dinner. Oh,” Laura Mae said, turning a sympathetic smile to me again. “Sorry, but you can’t join us until you’re married. Since you’re not, technically, part of the community yet. Someone should be by with a bit of food for you once we leave, though.”

I nodded, not really caring. I watched as Jacob finished his crown, one of the girls taking it and excitedly praising it. She then reached up and placed it around his head. Since he kept his hair short, it fit easily, and thankfully wasn’t too big.

“How does this ceremony work?” Serenity asked, walking over after saying goodbye to a few women who mentioned something about checking on their children. “Like, we’re all supposed to get married in one ceremony?”

“We don’t really do individual weddings,” Laura Mae said, turning her nose as if smelling something foul. “That’s so tacky and embarrassing. Like, all of the attention on you? I’d hate that. It’s much better sharing the glory in a group.”

“Right,” Serenity said, sitting down. “And it’s really okay that I marry Mike? I mean, she’s a woman, right?”

Laura Mae nodded, waving as the rest of the women who worked on my hair left. Kian finished packing up, and let the women take the things with them. He looked a bit tired though, and happily laid down on the floor next to Laura Mae. She smiled at him as he closed his eyes.

“It’s a new thing we’re trying, actually,” she explained. “Over the last ten years, our female and surrogate population increased a lot. We have more of them now than men, and it’s been a problem as the younger ones come of age. They need husbands and we just don’t have them.

“We try to recruit men. It’s not that they don’t want to come, but many only like the idea of domination. They’re not Godly men. They end up not being a good match.”

Interesting. So they had standards. And religion seemed to be a big factor in who was deemed acceptable. I frowned. General conservative fundamentalism and misogyny was one thing; religious-based fundamentalism would be a lot harder to manage.

I remembered Father’s question, and the only answer that was deemed acceptable to him when he asked about my religious beliefs. I thought of Mother when she told us about the laws of the Willows earlier. It seemed a lack of religion really wasn’t an option here.

“We only have five of them,” Laura Mae continued. “Right now, at least. Women who are infertile, if they so wish, can be raised differently from women. We call them deputies, as they are sort of like substitute men. We try to catch them young, and from their adolescent years on, they’re raised in a more masculine role.”

“But not exactly like men,” Serenity noted.

“Well, she’s not, of course, so no. It’s like the female equivalent of surrogates; how they’re not fully men but not quite women.”

“So how is she going to get me pregnant?” Serenity asked, frowning.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Laura Mae told her with a smile. “Just let her take care of it.”

Serenity looked at me. I knew she wanted to ask what that meant, but she’d just been shot down. It was best to not push it. Laura Mae hummed a bit, fluffing Kian’s afro. His breath was even, but I doubted he was really asleep.

The door beeped open, and Shiloh was back. He smiled and waved at us, walking in with a cart that had food on top. He left the cart by the door, opting to walk over and sit down next to me.

“Dinner’s starting soon!” he declared. He looked at Serenity and me. “That means the ceremony is right after! Aren’t you excited?”

“Ecstatic,” Serenity said, not cracking a smile.

Shiloh looked at her as if trying to figure it out. It didn’t look threatening, though, with his huge never-faltering grin.

“I feel like you’re not ecstatic,” he said, though it sounded like a question. Then he looked like he just got his answer. “Oh! Are you scared? It’s not that scary, I promise! And Josh said I’m allowed to help this time. We’ll, help _you_ ,” he added, looking at me. “So if you get scared, just ask for help and I’ll jump in!”

I looked at his smiling face, again feeling like I was missing something horrible. I hated this; I couldn’t get a grasp on anything that was happening while everyone just acted like all of this was normal.

“What,” I asked, feeling my mind reel, “is going to happen that I would need your help with?”

Shiloh blinked at me, his smile fading. He was confused. Genuinely and utterly confused.

“Well,” he said, hesitating and looking at Laura Mae. “Well, the—”

“Shiloh,” Laura Mae interrupted. “I’m sure Josh is waiting for you to return; I know your eating schedule is very strict.”

“Oh yeah.” And the goofy grin was back. Shiloh moved to stand, my racing heart be damned. “I’m not supposed to linger. But Josh said I can’t go back until I bring everyone, so…”

“Okay, we’re coming,” Laura Mae said, shaking Kian.

Kian resisted, but did eventually stir. I felt my heart really start to speed up then. They were leaving, and soon after this ceremony was going to start. And apparently something was going to happen that I might need help to get through.

“There’s food on the cart,” Laura Mae said once everyone was up and ready to go. “I personally would recommend just eating enough to not be hungry, but not to be overly full. See you guys soon!”

And without ceremony, they were gone. As the door slid behind them, Jacob was up and over to us immediately.

“I don’t think this is going to be like a typical wedding,” he said, sitting close to Serenity. “Those girls I was talking to said that they’re not of age, so they have to leave after we exchange vows. When I asked why, they just giggled and wouldn’t tell me.”

Serenity looked at me, horror in her face. “What is about to happen?”

I shook my head, unsure. But just the thought of it took our appetites away. We didn’t touch any of the food on the cart.

~*~

We waited about two hours before anyone came to get us. Instead of more women and surrogates our age, six women easily middle aged came in with serious faces. They adjust the flowers in our hair before fixing thick, opaque white veils on our heads. Before flipping them in front of us, I saw Mother enter the room. 

“It’ll be difficult for you to see in these,” Mother told us, her voice close. “You’ll need to fully trust us to guide you to the alter. From there, all you need do is say ‘I do’ when Father asks if you’ll take your husbands, and submit. It’s very simple, and the whole thing will be over quickly.”

There was a brief silence, none of us saying anything. I heard Mother take a deep breath in and out.

“Affirmations, children!” she said in a way that reminded me of my old tutors. “I want to _hear_ affirmations.”

“Yes, Mother,” I quickly said, remembering the last time she pulled this.

Serenity and Jacob followed my lead with tentative voices. Mother sighed.

“You’ll get better, children. We will all _help you_ get better. Now, hold on tight to your escort and let’s get you three married!”

Someone grabbed my arm. It was smaller and leaner than Mother’s, so I was happy that she wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle. Still, it was odd having to rely so heavily on someone else. We started walking, the sound of the door sliding open the only thing letting me know that I wasn’t about to be walked right into it.

The women were all quiet, our footsteps echoing in the halls the only sound around us. I could hear small sniffles from the back, which I was sure was Jacob. I couldn’t do anything to comfort him at this moment; he had to power through it himself.

We turned and walked for a while, until I heard the creak of a hinged door opening.

“Mind the stairs,” the woman next to me said as we slowed.

I took careful steps as we descended, grateful when I felt grass under my feet. It was only then that I realized we hadn’t been given shoes. I wondered if that was intentional or a lack of foresight.

The sun must have set a bit because the grass was cool under my feet. I could hear—rather, feel—people around. I tried to keep even breaths, wondering why everyone was so quiet. No one dared to speak, not even a crying child.

“Step up,” the woman next to me said after a while.

I followed her direction, finding another set of stairs. There were only three steps, and wooden from the way they creaked under my foot. I remembered the small platform in front of the dinner table; the ceremony must be happening there. That made sense.

I walked a while, surprised by how long the platform was. The woman eventually stopped, and I with her.

“Kneel down,” she told me.

I swallowed, following her orders. My knees hit something soft and fluffy, surprising me. The women guided me to just about crawl forward, the padding staying. It must have been some sort of large pillow or even a mattress. It was too soft to be a mat. I wondered why they would need a mattress for a wedding ceremony.

The woman let me go with no further instructions. I sat there on my knees, trying to make out shapes through the white veil. It was, as Mother stated, difficult. Especially, because it was obviously night out with only the light surrounding the stage. I had no idea what was happening and who was around me.

I closed my eyes, thinking of home. I should be home right now. I should be eating dinner with my parents, ignoring my bags to unpack another day. I should be listening to my father talk about all the sleep he got with me not around keeping him awake with my late-night snacking, and mother telling him to leave me alone because I was a growing boy. My father would then point out that I was already grown, not growing. And I’d joke that all the thinking I had to do at my job kept me hungry.

That was how this day was supposed to end.

Not like this.

“Good evening, my children,” a voice boomed around me, making me jump. I recognized it as Father’s, though he had to have a mic in order for his voice to be so loud and _everywhere_. “We’re gathered here on this beautiful, glorious night to not only unite these three loving couples in holy matrimony, but to also introduce three new members to our devoted congregation under Christ.

“Receive this welcome, my children. We ask only that you share the love we have plenty for you, and receive our love tonight as you marry into our family. I ask the congregation to take this moment to welcome our new brothers and sister in Christ.”

There was a wave of welcomes coming off from the side. The whole thing made me tense. Was I supposed to feel welcomed by a bunch of strangers greeting me? I closed my eyes, trying to breathe. This suddenly felt insanely overwhelming. Once the cries died down, Father began again.

“As always, let us be reminded of why we hold marriage in such high regard. For the Lord saw fit in His great wisdom to gift Adam a companion in Eve. In Genesis, he states ‘it is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him.’ In the very beginning, this is how God saw humans to be: man ruling over all with his _wife_ as his helper. It is not an easy task, and yet God so made wives for that purpose. And in this regard shall wives serve the Lord.”

He continued on like that for a while, my attention drifting. This was the bullshit I hated. Quotes about the inherit evilness of women due to Eve’s “trespass.” The original sin. And all I could think as Father went on and on with more Bible quotes and more lessons was that I wasn’t a woman.

Not that Serenity deserved to hear this bullshit, but still.

“‘Let a woman learn in silence with all submission,’” Father was still prattling. “‘And I do _not_ permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, but to be in silence. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression. Nevertheless she will be saved in childbearing if they continue in faith, love, and holiness, with self-control.’

“This is the important lesson to remember to all wives: through submission to your husbands are you in full service to the Lord. Through childbirth are you fulfilling God’s purpose for you on earth. Amen.”

Murmurs of amen echoed around me, and I was happy no one could see the way I rolled my eyes. Listening to this was fucking torture. I was wondering how long this would go on when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze.

“Introduce yourself to the congregation, young man.”

I took a breath in, thinking how Mother left this part out.

“Andres,” I said, my voice echoing around me despite how small it was.

“Good, my son. Evan, you may step forward.”

I didn’t hear anything, but I did feel the mattress dip a bit in front of me. I froze; so Evan had been close by this whole time. And now he was in front of me, so close that I could smell the faint smell of cedar and sandalwood. My breaths got shorter.

“Evan and Andres, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

I let out a breath just to keep from laughing. The fucking audacity of that question.

“I have,” Evan said easily.

I closed my eyes, hating every second of this.

“I have” I repeated. It was a fucking lie, but I said it anyway.

“Beautiful. Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of holy matrimony, join hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”

Evan grabbed my hands, firmly. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Evan,” Father continued. “Do you take Andres to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Andres. Do you take Evan to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to honor and obey until death do you part?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to pull away and just run off. I wondered what would happen if I did. Would they chase after me? Force me back and redo this entire stupid ceremony? Probably. There was no winning in fighting.

“I do,” I said.

“May the Lord in His kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church,” Father said, “and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder.

“May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strength and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder. Amen.”

More amens from the people watching. I felt more movement next to me, my right hand was taken and something placed inside. It took me a second to realize it was a ring. A wedding band.

I really wanted to cry now.

“Bless, O Lord, these rings which we bless in your name so that those who wear them may remain entirely faithful to each other, abide in peace and in your will, and live always in mutual charity. Through Christ our Lord, amen.”

This time, only Evan followed with the amen. I quickly added mine.

“Repeat after me,” Evan whispered to me. He didn’t give me time to acknowledge that. “With this ring.”

I wasn’t sure what was making me emotional, but I had to take a deep breath to hold back the tears. Fuck. I couldn’t lose it here. Not when I was so close to this fiasco being over.

“With this ring,” I repeated.

“I thee wed.”

“I thee wed.”

“And all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“And all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“In sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth.”

“In sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth.”

“Till death do us part.”

“Till death do us part.”

“Very good,” Evan praised. “Now put the ring on my finger.”

I nodded, using my left hand to find his left ring finger. It was a little weird since I couldn’t see, but I managed to get it on pretty quickly. Evan grabbed my left hand.

“With this ring,” he said, “I thee wed, and all my worldly goods I thee endow. In sickness and in health, in poverty or in wealth, till death do us part.”

I felt the metal ring slide on my finger, a bit snug but manageable. It seemed fitting; it was what being trapped had to feel like.

“Forasmuch as Andres and Evan have consented together in holy matrimony, and have pledged their love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the joining and the giving of rings, by the power vested in me, and as witnessed by friends and family, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Evan, you may now kiss your bride.”

Almost immediately, Evan lifted my veil, pushing it over my hair. His hands were on my face in minutes, the action keeping my eyes focused on him. That must have been what he wanted; a moment where we were the only two people in the world. Everything and everyone did fade away, and I was faced with the abject terror what had just happened.

I really just married a stranger against my will.

Evan cut off my train of thought with a kiss, fierce and passionate with everything else disappearing in a blink. I closed my eyes feeling none of the excitement I normally got by kissing someone new. None of the anticipation and butterflies and eagerness. I didn’t pull Evan in deeper, didn’t lean in for more.

I sat there, dread sitting like lead in my stomach, waiting for it to be done. And when he finally did pull apart to cheers and laughter from the people watching, all I wished was for him to never touch me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proud to announce that I worked through my block. Haha. 
> 
> I doubt I'll upload again until May. I may also be changing my upload schedule if my work schedule stays the same in May (it likely will, unless they stop being pieces of shit and let us work from home). Thinking Saturday instead of Sunday. 
> 
> Eh. We'll cross that bridge when we get there...
> 
> I'll post part two of the wedding on Wednesday or Thursday. I wouldn't leave you guys hanging too long on that lol.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the wedding.

Father continued with Serenity, repeating the ceremony with her and Mike. Serenity looked tense, her voice flat when asked if she was consenting.

I took the moment to take in my surroundings. I was surprised to see that the table was full as far as I could see. It was like a sea of smiling faces, looking so happy to witness this farse of a wedding. In front of the stage were the six council members in their robes, their faces stern. The women who led us outside were split, standing at each end of the stage with a small group of happy-looking surrogates and women behind them.

Shiloh was standing with the women closest to the edge of the stage I was at. He gave me a big smile and small wave when our eyes met. I would have waved back—just to be polite—but after Father had moved on, Evan moved us to a more comfortable position on the mattress, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me.

That was the weirdest part about this whole thing: the mattresses. Three twin sized mattresses had been set on the stage, Serenity and Jacob kneeling in the center of the other two while Mike and Declan stood to the side and waited. Like Evan, they didn’t kneel onto the mattress until it came time to exchange vows. Was the wood so brutal on the knees that actual mattresses were needed as padding?

Father moved to Jacob, droning through the vows again. When they exchanged rings, Jacob’s voice was so small that I couldn’t hear him. And when Declan flipped Jacob’s veil to reveal his face, I was relieved to find Jacob’s cheeks dry of tears. He was misty-eyed, his back straight and his shoulders tense when Declan claimed his kiss. Still, it was better than if he was bawling his eyes out.

Still behind Jacob, Father turned to the crowd of people. I noticed a few people starting to get up; mostly women with small children and teenagers who looked chagrined to have to move. I suddenly remembered what Shiloh had said earlier about me—all three of us, really—needing help. I swallowed, my hearting picking up pace in my chest.

“Now married and bound,” Father said, waving his hand out towards his, “let us welcome our three new families: Evan and Andres Reyes, Michaela and Serenity Thoms, and Declan and Jacob Jordan.”

There was a flurry of applause that quickly turned to white noise to me. All I was focused on were the younger people walking away, disappearing into various houses. The applause went until every last one of them were inside, the doors shut tight against whatever was about to happen next.

It was only then that I realized I had no idea what Evan’s last name was until now. And I questioned why his mother gave me such a hard time about my last name when hers was just as Spanish as mine.

“The Lord instructs us to be fruitful,” Father continued, his voice booming through the mic on his robe. “It is the very core of His purpose for us; to procreate and build our race. Everything He has ordained for us is for this very reason, and it is the basis of our community. Through childbirth do our women repent for the original sin of their foremother, Eve. Through childbirth do our surrogate wives repent for the sin of their bodies’ deviance of God’s natural design.”

I swallowed at that, trying not to get too angry. I knew this was how they viewed us. Still, what God would allow me to be born with my supposed “deviant” body only to then blame me for it?

“And this is why,” Father was saying, “no marriage is truly received in His glory until its consummation. Let us all bear witness to this marriage to completion, and see the Lord’s blessing of children come to fruition.” 

“What?” I muttered.

I felt Evan move, leaning down and kissing the back of my neck. I froze, unable to move.

“Hush,” he whispered, effectively silencing me.

Father was moving away from Declan and Jacob, standing in the middle of the stage, by Serenity and Mike’s mattress. Declan watched him, his eyes excited as he shifted to his knees. He looked like a crouching tiger ready to attack. Jacob sat still, watching Father with confusion in his eyes.

It was then that everything clicked, and the knowledge of what was about to happen made my body move. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to do—stand, maybe—but Evan’s arms wrapped tighter around me, holding me back. His lips trailed the side of my neck now, the intimacy of the action making me feel disgusted.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned in my ear.

“Declan,” Father said with a stern nod.

That was all he said.

Declan turned to Jacob, eyeing him down like prey. He leaned back on his heels, unbuttoning his shirt. Jacob’s breath got heavier as he watched, completely frozen in fear.

“He’s going to need help,” Declan said to no one in particular.

Though apparently it was to someone: the young surrogates standing off to the side near Jacob jumped into action, making their way up on the stage and kneeling around Jacob on the mattress. That confused Jacob more, as they reached for his hands and arms, whispering that he didn’t have to be afraid.

“We’ll be right here,” one of the surrogates said, gently removing Jacob’s flower crown.

“Squeeze my hand as tight as you need to,” another one said.

Jacob looked lost.

Declan got up, tossing his shirt off the stage to walk to the front of the mattress. Right in front of where everyone in this stupid cult was sitting at the large table, watching. Jacob tried to turn with him, though his movement was limited with the surrogates around him.

In a dramatic, swift movement, Declan leaned forward and grabbed one of Jacob’s leg. The surrogates let go of their hold so Jacob could be turned with his legs towards the table. Jacob fell on his back, letting out a shout of surprise. The surrogates were back on him instantly, one at his head with his hands on Jacob’s shoulders. The others held his hands and arms, and it took me a second to realize that they were holding him down.

Serenity seemed to notice it too, letting out a gasp and turning her head to look away. Seeing her reaction made me close my eyes, throwing my hands over my face. I knew they were going to rape us tonight; I knew there was nothing I could do to escape that. But what sort of psychopath so-called community raped its women and surrogates in public? As though it was a typical movie night event?

“Stop that,” Evan said, pulling my hands away from my face. I turned away, trying to escape, but he was _right there_. “You need to witness this.”

“Why?” I snapped, my voice an angry whisper. Why the fuck was I whispering? “There’s already a bunch of people watching!”

“You can’t turn from this. You need to witness him consummate his marriage the same way that he will witness yours.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t sit there and just _watch_ Declan hurt Jacob again. I so desperately wished I had my magic so I could help Jacob. So I could make all of this stop. So I could shove everyone off of him and spirit him back home to his mother.

I felt heat move through my body, energy forcing my arms down at my sides. My eyes snapped open against my will, the heat rising through my body to my head before dissipating. I took measured breaths, trying to calmly process what just happened. I knew what magic felt like on my body; like heat and electricity and someone pulling and pushing.

Evan used fucking magic on me. To make me watch as Declan leaned forward to pull at Jacob’s pants. Jacob started kick a bit, the surrogates around him hushing him and leaning in.

“It’s okay,” I heard one say. “We’re right here.”

“Stop,” Jacob cried. I couldn’t see his face with the surrogates surrounding him the way they were, but I could tell he was crying again. “Please, make him stop.”

“You’re okay,” someone told him. “It’ll be over so quick.”

“Here, do you want to hold my hand?”

“No, sweetie. No need to get up. You just need to stay right here, okay?”

“Here,” one of them said, wrapping their hand around the back of Jacob’s knees, pulling his legs to his chest. “There you go. Nick, grab his other leg. We’ll hold them so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

I could hear Jacob still whispering protests, asking them to let him go. There were so many; there was no way Jacob could fight them off even if he tried. Declan had a greedy smile on his face as he leaned forward, his upper body disappearing into the sea of heads surrounding Jacob.

I could still see Jacob’s hips, see Declan pull himself out of his pants and guide himself into Jacob. I saw the way Jacob’s hips started, trying to pull away at the intrusion. I saw when Jacob lost that fight, Declan sliding in with a satisfied hiss.

“Ow,” I heard Jacob say, his voice small.

The surrogates were leaning in immediately, soothing him with encouragement and promises that he was being good. So good. Declan didn’t take long to pick up to a steady pace, his thrusts rougher than they needed to be. Jacob only let out small grunts and little hisses when Declan was obviously being too aggressive, but kept his protests silent from that point on.

Or rather, they were so quiet that they couldn’t be heard under the hum of the surrogates praising him.

I glanced at the table, the people there watching aptly. It was so fucking weird; they didn’t seem to get off on it, nor were they particularly disturbed by it. It was as if this was as common as the sun rising and setting. As entertaining as a daytime talk show to kill some hours before dinner.

Declan gave a couple of quick thrusts, his hips eventually stopping. He leaned down, probably to kiss Jacob, while the surrogates holding his legs let go. There was a polite applause from the people at the table, and from the council men, the women, and the: everyone. Evan’s own hands came up in front of me, clapping quietly to add to it.

I felt sick.

As Declan pulled out, the surrogates helped Jacob sit up. He was as much of a mess as I expected, his eyes bloodshot red and tears all down his face. The surrogates quietly praised him while offering handkerchiefs so he could clean himself off. Father moved until he was near the mattress I was sharing with Evan. He glanced down at us, his face clear of any emotion before turning to Mike and Serenity.

I froze. Fuck. I had to watch this again, didn’t I?

“Mike,” Father said, nodding to her.

Taking her cue, Mike leaned down, whispering in Serenity’s ear. Her face was turned away from me, so all I saw was the quick, frantic shake of her head before Mike moved. Like Declan, she moved to the front of the mattress. Serenity moved with her, moving her legs in front of her, facing the table.

It wasn’t until I saw Mike lean forward and kiss Serenity, her hands moving up Serenity’s thighs and removing her panties that it suddenly clicked why they were doing it in that position. I also wondered how this would work with Mike considering her lack of a dick.

Assumedly.

Serenity glanced over at me, then seemed to regret it as she turned away immediately. Mike kissed her again, pushing her until she was flat on her back. Serenity was a bit more engaging, kissing Mike back and not looking quite so miserable under. I felt my breath pick up, watching the ease that Serenity spread her legs so Mike had plenty of room between them.

Mike moved a hand to her crotch, loosening the tie holding her pants up before reaching down. I wasn’t sure what she was reaching for at first until she pushed her pants down at little and I saw the black harness straps against her pale skin.

That made sense: she was strapped.

With an ease that made me wonder if Mike practiced this, she slid the dildo out of her pants. It wasn’t overly huge, though I could tell from the look on Serenity’s face that it wasn’t something she was used to handling. In fact, if Serenity’s not-so-humble brags over the past week were true, she was used to _being_ the one wearing the strap.

Mike reached between them, her fingers easily slipping inside Serenity. Serenity winced, moving her hips to try to adjust. She was rather quiet and still through the whole thing, her gaze up at the stars. I glanced up too, wondering if she was finding any solace there. This far from Faust City, the sky was free from the typical light pollution that drove most of the stars away.

Serenity let out a harsh, shaky breath, catching my attention. Mike had pulled her fingers away, now easing the dildo into her. Serenity bit her lip as she tried to bear down, Mike holding her hips still with one hand. Mike pressed forward, guiding herself in, drawing a small cry from Serenity.

Despite her dark skin, I could see the way her cheeks blushed, and I knew the embarrassment came from all the eyes on her. Mike gave a lazy thrust, settling her hips. Serenity moaned, covering her face with her hands. Mike quickly reached down and moved Serenity’s hands, pinning them by her head. She leaned down and kissed Serenity, both of their eyes closed through it.

Where Declan was rough and hectic, Mike was gentle and smooth. It was obvious Serenity wasn’t used to it, and Mike was patient through all of Serenity’s failed attempts to push Mike out of her or pull her own hips away.

Mike did sit up at one point, gripping Serenity’s upper thighs to fuck her properly. Serenity yelped, her hands going to cover only her mouth this time. Mike allowed it as she sped up, pulling Serenity down to meet her every thrust.

The whole thing felt oddly intimate, and I felt weird watching it. They moved more like teenage lovers still trying to figure each other out. It reminded me of my first time with Chris down the block. He’d been my friend since first grade, and stayed my friend despite how many grades I skipped. Our first time had been awkward and shy, both of us afraid to hurt the other. It became a fond memory that I would think of at times, smiling at the boyhood crush we shared.

After a while, Mike leaned down for another kiss, her hips stilling in a mock orgasm. Serenity panted between kisses, her legs pressing against Mike’s hips. Everyone clapped again. Evan leaned down, kissing my neck. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I wasn’t about to be next in this fucked up ritual.

“Are you going to need help?” he asked me.

I swallowed, opening my eyes again as Serenity and Mike separated. Jacob was in Declan’s lap, still crying and wiping them away. Declan was at least nice enough to rub Jacob’s back, though I knew it wasn’t helping.

I wasn’t sure if I could do what Serenity did so easily. I sure as hell knew I didn’t want anyone holding me down the way those surrogates held Jacob. I had no idea how I was going to do this.

“No,” I finally answered, watching Father walk away from us, back to the middle of the stage.

“This isn’t like before,” Evan pressed. “This is a very difficult part. It’s okay if you need it. Everyone here _wants_ to help.”

I glanced over at Shiloh, his face serious for once as he watched me. He said he’d help me. He had been so excited when he said he’d been allowed to.

“Can I try on my own?” I said, my voice feeling as small as I felt. I looked up at Evan, his hazel eyes watching me carefully. “Do I have to decide now?”

Evan kissed me, surprising me. When he pulled away, he pressed our foreheads together, the gesture so sweet that it almost made me forget he was about to rape me.

“Of course you can try,” he said. “If you need help, just tell me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I nodded as if that was comforting. It wasn’t.

“Evan,” Father’s voice said behind us.

My heart skipped as Evan moved. I slid out of his lap, turning as he took his position at the front of the mattress. My eyes immediately darted to the people watching in front of me, and everything froze. Why did I have to do this with so many people watching?

“Look at me,” Evan said, his voice soft.

I didn’t want to do that, but he really thought he was helping. So I turned and met his eyes, my breath getting heavy. He gripped my thighs, pulling me close to him. I took the message and fell on my back, trying to calm my breath.

This was a bit easier. I didn’t have to see anyone looking up at the sky. I could almost pretend I was alone, and that I was imagining the way my pants were being tugged down my hips and legs. Once they were off, however, Evan leaned forward, kissing me and crushing me under his weight.

Evan was diligent in his work, moving to finger me so I got just wet enough to ease this a bit. When his hand moved away from me to undo his own pants, I watched in horror. I needed to stop this. I couldn’t just lie here and take this.

The moment his dick came out, hard and leaking, uncut and big, I lost it. He was bigger than what I had expected. Bigger than I ever had. And it was moving towards me. In a panic, I placed my hands on his hips and pushed. There was no way I was strong enough to actually get him off me, but he did stop at my protest.

“Please,” I said, remembering how he felt about the word no. “I—I can’t.”

My voice cracked on that last word, and I felt actual tears hit my eyes. I felt so stupid and childish. This wasn’t even close to my first time. Fuck, I’d been with Lyle just that morning. So why was this too much? Why was I acting like some kidnapped bride on her wedding night?

Oh, that’s right. Because I was.

Evan watched me for a few seconds, reading something in my expression. He sat up, looking down at me.

“Do you need help?” he asked me again.

I shook my head, a few tears spilling. I was quick to wipe them away, though there was no way he didn’t see them.

“No,” I said around a sob. “Please. I just—I can’t. _Please_.”

Evan looked over at the surrogates and women on the side next to us. I followed his gaze, hating the worried and concerned look on their faces. If they were truly that concerned, they should fucking stop this! Instead, they were just standing there, watching Evan force himself on me.

I met Shiloh’s gaze, saw the worry and the way he was slightly bouncing. He wanted to move.

“How about just two?” Evan asked me. “For now? And if you need more, we’ll ask more to help.”

I wanted to tell him no. I did, in fact, shake my head. But Evan wasn’t hearing that. He instead tilted his head, waiting. Waiting for me to acquiesce. Waiting for me to say yes. I let out a shaky breath, pulling back the sobs threatening to escape.

“Fine,” I forfeited.

Evan gave a curt nod, turning to look at the surrogates.

“Just two for now,” he said to them.

There was this audible sigh through the crowd, as if that was what everyone had wanted. Hell, it probably was. I heard footsteps and closed my eyes, hating everything about this. I didn’t want to be held down. I didn’t want someone else right there, watching and telling me how good I was being for letting Evan rape me. I just didn’t want any of this.

“Hey.”

I looked up, meeting Zeke’s face. That surprised me. Why, I wasn’t sure. Shiloh walked around to my other side, grabbing my hand.

“This is the hard part,” Zeke was saying. “But you can do it.”

I shook my head, Evan’s fingers in me again. I moaned, trying to pull away. Shiloh placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing my hand.

“You only have to do this once,” Shiloh said. “Then never again. Not so bad, right?”

Evan pulled his fingers out again, moving to settle between my legs.

“Hold his legs,” Evan ordered.

“No,” I said, my face heating up. “Wait, I—”

Zeke and Shiloh were quick, grabbing my legs and pulling them back until they almost met my chest. If I was embarrassed before, I really was now. My hands went up to my face, just so I wouldn’t have to look at them.

“Hey,” Shiloh said, pulling my hand away. “You’re not the first bride to need help. I needed help at my wedding too.”

“Me too,” Zeke said, tugging at my other hand. “This is why we’re here; this part can be really hard. But we’re here, okay? We’ll be right here through it all.”

“I—”

Evan took advantage of the fact that I was distracted and pushed the tip of his dick inside me. I tensed, wincing at the stretch. It didn’t hurt too much, but it did burn a bit. I bit my lip, not sure if I could take too much more of that.

“Here,” Zeke said, spreading my leg a bit more. “He’s a bit big, so let’s try to make more room for him.”

Shiloh did the same, and Evan took that as the encouragement I’m sure it was meant to be. My breaths got shaky as he eased in, stopping to pull back a bit and then push in some more. I tried to pull my hand out from Shiloh’s, wanting to stop him. It was too much. He was too big.

Shiloh caught my hand in his, pinning it by my head and interlacing our fingers. I gave him a glare before Evan roughly pressed forward until his hips met mine. I let out a cry, Zeke pulling out a handkerchief and wiping my forehead while he told me how well I was doing. Evan leaned down and kissed me, briefly, before pushing up to his hands to move in earnest.

“Aahh,” I moaned, gripping Shiloh’s hand tightly.

I couldn’t quiet my voice as Evan picked up a relentless pace, snapping his hips back and forth. He didn’t pull out too much before pushing back in, which I was grateful for. The burn eased as I got wetter; and I did get wetter. I cursed my body for reacting to him, even if it was just trying to make this easier for me.

“There you go,” Shiloh was saying when I let out a particularly embarrassing moan. “See, it’s starting to feel nice now, right?”

Nice wasn’t quite the word. It was big and the stretch felt comfortable now that I was more used to it. And Evan _was_ hitting me deep. Whether he was trying to or not, it meant he was grazing that spot in me that could have me coming in minutes. Still, his aim wasn’t precise nor consistent; and neither was his pace. There was no way he was pulling an orgasm out of me.

Which, really, was for the best.

Evan moved, coming down on his forearms and kissing me hard. I relaxed, letting him kiss me, only so it would distract me from how much nicer this was getting as time went on. He came up from the kiss, looking down at me with such genuine adoration that I wanted to kick him in his nuts just to wipe it off his face.

His hips halted for a second, moving before he gave a particularly meticulous snap. He hit that spot perfectly, drawing out a strangled cry. I looked up, his eyes watched me closely. He did it again, his thrust concise and forcing me to moan in response. It was the third time that I realized he was doing it on purpose. He paused, his eyes meeting mine as he watched me realized what he was doing.

Then he really started to move.

It felt good. Every thrust was perfectly what I wanted; his pace relentless in his mission. And it was the very last thing I wanted. Panicking a bit, I tried to pull away from Zeke and Shiloh, angry at how firm their holds held.

“Stop,” I gasped. “Please, let me go. I need—”

I needed to stop him. I couldn’t come from this. I refused to come from this. I didn’t want this. He was forcing me. Even if I could rationalize that it was a physiological response to stimulation, I knew it would break me if I actually had an orgasm right now.

“You’re okay,” Shiloh said, smiling at me. “It feels better, right?”

“No,” I said, not fully lying. “Please, I can’t.”

“Shhh,” Zeke said, giving me his hand. “You’ve been so good this entire time. Isn’t it nice that he’s feeling good inside you?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Evan was there to kiss me. I had never felt so helpless in my life, especially not while having sex. I couldn’t do anything to stop him, instead closing my eyes and trying to breathe through it. It wasn’t working; I could feel the pressure building in my hips.

“Please,” I moaned, my toes curling.

“Shhh,” Evan said in my ear. “Go ahead and come for me, _mi sol_.”

My heart skipped, the endearment catching me off guard. If I said something like that, I’d probably get in trouble. But Evan was the Willow’s golden boy. No one was going to admonish him for it.

Evan thrusted, the pressure reaching its crescendo before washing over me like a wave. I shut my eyes while Evan kissed me, swallowing my cry. I clamped down on him, feeling him even more as he fucked me through it.

I quickly grew too sensitive, and he increased his speed. My body felt limp, and he pushed into me with more fever than before. I let out another moan as he pressed deeply in, pulling back and then pushing in again. I winced as he came in me, feeling unbearably wet. Zeke and Shiloh let go of me, praising me as they did.

Evan kissed me again. It felt soft and warm, almost inviting. When he came back up, I was aware of the applause around us. Father was saying something, amens echoing occasionally from the crowd. When Evan finally pulled out, I felt oddly empty. As if I wanted him back in me.

With my orgasm fading, reality settled back in. If I had met Evan any other way—if he had been some guy I met and we hooked up at a hotel or at his place or whatever—I would have said that was the best sex of my life. I would have wanted to go again. I would have dropped to my knees and blew him to hardness again just to get him back in me.

Evan leaned in during Father’s speech, kissing me before whispering into my ear.

“I’m going to make you come again before this night is out,” he threatened.

I felt my stomach drop, ice chilling my veins. Despite how good it felt, the idea of doing that again filled me up with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who saw this coming? Everyone? No one is surprised? Damn. Okay. 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well and keeping safe right now. My job is still doing the split shifts, and likely will be at least until halfway through next month. We'll see. 
> 
> I think after the mini post bomb I'm doing next weekend, I will be updating my new upload schedule to Saturday. At least until all of this is over. Assuming I don't finish this by then, lol. 
> 
> Anyway, this story; is it bad that I'm not sure how I want to end this. I've gone through quite a few possibilities, and it's been kinda hard to decide which route to take. There's a part of me that wants to get really dark, but I'm not sure, all things considered, if that would be a good place to go. I think not having a set idea also makes it harder for me to write in general. I'm at a point in the story where I need to really decide which route this story is going to go, and my wishy washy-ness isn't helping. The chapter I'm working on will kinda decide the route this story will take. And I need to commit to that route. 
> 
> I believe in happy endings: I'm so sick of this modern day and age of the tragic and/or bittersweet ending. It gets depressing, honestly, whenever everything you watch and read and hear is like that. The bittersweet ending was great before because we were USED to happy endings. Now everyone is used to bittersweet endings and I'm over it. I want happy endings. I thought my last story had a very happy ending. I just want stories to have happy endings again! 
> 
> But with this sort of story, it'd be sooooooo easy to give it the tragic ending I've been mulling in my head. Mmmm. But, no. I think I should commit to the happy ending. I want happy endings to be my thing. I want anyone who reads my work to know that no matter how dark my stories may get, the ending will always be a happy one. Always. Should I commit to the happy ending? I think I should. But the dark side IS pretty tempting...
> 
> On an unrelated (or related?) note, I watched this show on Netflix a while ago called Unorthodox. It's about this Hasid woman trying to escape her Orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn. There are people who would look at what happens in that show and call the community a cult. I personally wouldn't disagree with them, especially when I saw a lot of what I'd written about in my story in it. I always find it funny how whenever I'm writing something, I suddenly start seeing shows and movies about my topic. I also watched a documentary on ex-Hasids on Netflix, and I just finished Deborah Feldman's book Unorthodox: the book the show was based on. There were a lot of differences and things done in the show for drama, but it really dove deep into the culture. 
> 
> The thing that is so intense about the Hasidic community, noted more in the book than in the show (though it is mentioned and referenced in the show), is how much their practices and beliefs stem from what happened to Jewish people during the Holocaust. For example, they stress child bearing as an attempt to make up for the "6 million lost" during that time. And despite how disgusting their methods, can you blame a community trying to rebuild after that immense amount of trauma? 
> 
> In the documentary I watched, one of the guys interviewed noted how the community goes out of their way to keep you uneducated so that way if you try to leave the community, you're going to be homeless and destitute. And he himself was a struggling actor living out of a van. It's messed up. Reading the book Unorthodox, what got the woman out WAS education. She was able to enroll in school, and from there, started a blog that led her to write her memoir. And her memoir is what allowed her the financial freedom to leave. 
> 
> That said, it gave me a lot to think about regarding religious fundamentalism and religious cults. 
> 
> Okay, enough rambling. See you all next week, and please leave comments! Let me know what you think! And stay safe out there!


	16. Chapter 16

“Are we sure?” Serenity asked, leaning back in her chair. “There’s no legal way for us to be forced back?”

Anya nodded while Jenn looking through her tablet. We were at the municipal building again, Anya scheduling a meeting with Jenn and the three of us to go over our options. Serenity was wearing a flowing spring dress, her bump only visible when she sat down. Jacob looked bored, tapping and swiping through his phone the entire time.

“She’s right,” Jenn said, looking up at us with a reassuring smile. “Faust City citizens, even ones married to Nation citizens, cannot be forced back to the Nation if it’s against their will. The only way you three are going back is if you volunteer.”

“Do we have to keep showing up at these mediations, then?” Jacob asked, moving to scroll on his phone. He never looked up.

“Nope,” Anya jumped in before Jenn could speak. Ignoring Jenn’s wary side-eye, Anya continued. “In fact, the best thing you could do for yourself is go about life as though the Willows never happened.”

“Not _never_ happened,” Jenn amended. “From what Ms. Lorenzo is saying, the biggest battle is with the media. Public opinion will likely impact you personally more than any ruling. It could pressure you back to the Willows, just to make the noise stop. The best way to make the Willows look like lying pieces of shit is to go about your life as if you intend to stay. Or, rather, stay away from the Willows.”

“So, like we’ve been doing?” I asked, frowning.

I was hoping for something more active to do. Something more intentional.

“Not quite,” Anya said, leaning with her chin in her hand. “You really need to do _more_ of what you’ve doing.”

“You’re really not good at this,” Jenn said, a playful smile on her face. Anya shrugged while Jenn explained. “She means being more engaging. It helps if you’re actively living your lives in a way that shows you have no intentions of going back. Going back to school, graduating, getting your own place or a new job.”

“Dating,” Anya added with a wink at me in particular. Wasn’t sure what that was about. “If you guys just sit around at your parents’ house waiting for this to be over, it makes it look like you’re waiting to be _convinced_. If you’re having fun, active, engaging lives here in the city, no one can say you’d rather leave that to go back to the Nation.”

“How about leaving the country?” Serenity asked, eying Anya. Of all of us, she’d been the most suspicious of her.

“Like, a vacation?” Jenn asked.

“Like, moving. Permanently.”

I blinked, watching the way Serenity made sure to not meet my eye. Jacob didn’t look up, hitting his phone a few times. Something about that felt wrong. It seemed drastic. Like running away.

But was that really such a bad thing?

“That would really get the point across,” Anya said after a beat. “My research doesn’t show the Willows having pulls anywhere outside the country; their existence is very experimental and precarious at best. Its system might gain traction if they continue being able to boost success stories. You guys throw a wrench in that, however, thus all the scrambling.”

Serenity nodded, seeming satisfied. She didn’t say more on it though. Jacob tapped the screen to his phone again, finally looking up.

“That’s convenient,” he said, waving his phone before moving to grab his messenger bag. “I just submitted my final revisions.”

“Oh,” Serenity said, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re graduating this spring?”

“Yup,” Jacob said, standing and throwing his bag over his shoulder. “And there’s a research position in Cambridge with my name on it. Are we done here?”

“Pretty much,” Anya said, looking mildly impressed. “My last suggestion is to not show up for any future legal shenanigans unless it’s court ordered. Let your lawyer handle it while you live your life. That includes the next mediation.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” Jacob muttered, looking at his watch. “I have a class. Ms. Kincaid, you have my number if you need me.”

“Of course, Jacob,” Jenn said.

With a lazy nod towards me and Serenity, he was gone. I watched the door shut behind him, feeling even more off. Serenity and Jacob both had plans to leave the country? I suddenly felt so far behind the two of them.

“Thank you for your recommendations, Ms. Lorenzo,” Serenity said, moving to stand. Without thinking, I moved to help her. She wasn’t quite big enough to need it, but she accepted it without any protest. “I feel better knowing I can move forward with my transfer.”

“Of course,” Anya said, smiling at her. “Faust City’s citizens are my primary concern.”

Serenity nodded, heading for the door.

“Keep me in the loop,” Anya was saying to Jenn, as I grabbed my own briefcase. “I want to make sure this doesn’t turn into an international scandal.”

“Yes, of course,” Jenn said, standing and shaking her hand. “I’d hate for the Fausts to have to get involved.”

“Yeah,” Anya said, looking at me and winking again. “See you around, Andres.”

“Sure,” I said, giving Jenn a small wave. “Thank you both.”

I rushed out of the room, finding Serenity waiting for an elevator. I caught up with her just as it opened to let us in. She hit the button for ground floor, leaning against the back wall and resting a hand on her stomach.

“What did you mean by transferring?” I asked her as the elevator started moving.

Serenity shrugged, not looking at me. “I got into Oxford Medical School.”

I blinked. “Wow. Congrats.”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “I wanted to transfer somewhere out of the country, so…”

“So you’re both going to the UK,” I said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say to that. They were both leaving.

“Calm down, Andres,” Serenity said with a humorless chuckle. “We’ll be, like, two hours away from each other. And even then, I doubt we’ll be meeting up for brunches.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure why this was bothering me.

“I don’t know why,” I said, smiling at her, “but it just seems surprising that you’re both leaving. Is all.”

“I don’t know why that’s surprising.” Serenity looked at me, her eyes hard. “I hate showing up to my classes and worrying about running into you.”

I frowned. “So you’re leaving to get away from me?”

“Both of you,” Serenity said, not holding back. “I hate when we have to come to these meetings. I hate when I see you guys at Tulane, and I have to be nice and say hi. I hate seeing you around the city and having to pretend I didn’t just so I don’t have to say anything. I hate how every time I see you guys, I have to think about the Willows and Mike and everything that happened there.

“My therapist told me that getting away would probably help with that. Realizing that the world isn’t as small as it feels right now. So I applied and got in. As soon as the fall term starts, I’m out of here.”

“What about the baby?” I asked.

“Not really your concern,” Serenity all but snapped, looking away from me again. “But if you must know, she’ll be coming with me. My one sister lives right near Oxford, and is a stay-at-home mom. She’ll be able to help.”

The door opened, Jacob coming from out of the stairwell across from us. He glanced up, giving a polite smile when he saw us. Serenity followed him as we all head to the door. I followed behind them, wondering if Jacob felt the same way. Was he leaving for the same reason?

“Good luck you two,” Serenity said once we went outside. One of her sisters was smoking a vape at the bottom of the stairs. She turned and waved at us. “If we’re lucky, we’ll never see each other again.”

“One can only hope,” Jacob said, hitting the sidewalk and turning the opposite direction towards the bus stop on the corner.

“Take care of yourself, then,” I said to Serenity.

She gave me a tight smile. “You too.”

I nodded, watching her sister guide her to the car parked on the curb. I let out a heavy breath, turning to follow Jacob. He was back on his phone, pulling a pair of headphones from his bag. I caught up with him before he started putting them on his head.

“When are you leaving for Cambridge?” I asked him as we both sat down to wait for the bus.

Jacob held back rolling his eyes, as he turned to look up at me.

“May.”

“That’s not that far out.”

“Could be sooner.”

I let out a breath, looking down the street at the passing cars. I shook my head, trying to figure out why I felt so lost.

“I just find it so weird that you two are leaving,” I admitted.

“I don’t know how you’re not.”

I looked at Jacob, his headphones dangling from his neck. He watched me suspiciously, as if afraid I was going to do something to him.

“Why should I run?” I asked.

“Because he’s so close,” Jacob said as if it was the obvious thing.

“Evan?”

“And Declan. And Mike. The Willows. It’s all so close. It’s not even a full hour away from the fucking city. As long as we’re here, they’re always going to be _right there_.”

“You’re safe here,” I told him, feeling confused.

“I’m not safe anywhere in this fucking country. As soon as I don’t show up to that next mediation—as soon as we all don’t show up—they’re going to do something drastic. And I don’t want to fucking be here when they do it.”

I shook my head, still not being able to relate. The city was designed to keep us safe. I let out a slow breath, feeling the electricity of the magic running through the city like a heartbeat. When my mother first walked me through feeling the magic in the city, I became obsessed with it. It had fascinated me how much magic just pulsed through the pavement, bouncing from tree to tree, surrounding the Mississippi. The cemeteries reeked of it, and everyone alive was engulfed by it.

When I got to the point of being able to see the magic, the pretty rainbow colors different for everyone, I studied them. I knew now just looking what magic was being used to protect each citizen. Before even learning someone’s name, I could tell who was an immigrant, a refugee, a city-born citizen, or a tourist just from tracing the magic surrounding them.

Jacob was surrounded in yellow and white designs, the sigils stronger now that he returned from the Nation. While he was city-born, the curve of the white lines meant he needed additional protection. No one could force him out of the city against his will. He was so _safe_ and he didn’t even know it.

“Not all of us can use magic,” Jacob said, standing as his bus came. I glanced at the bus schedule; mine would be another ten minutes. “Not all of us can fight if they try something.”

“I couldn’t fight at the Willows,” I reminded him. I had been just as powerless as he had been.

“No. But you can fight here.”

The bus came to a stop, and Jacob climbed on without another word or a single look back. I watched him disappear on the bus, and watched the bus turn left. I looked around me as people walked by, an older woman with shopping bags smiling as she sat next to me. I could see the magic on her, blue and white with fading crowns on her sigils. She was an immigrant, but she’d been in the city a long time. So long that she didn’t have to worry about someone coming after her.

My time at the Willows made me forget that I had something over Jacob and Serenity. Mainly because it’d been taken away before I even had a chance to use it. But it had been what saved us in the end. And it was why I felt so at home in the magic of the city. I was empowered here.

In Faust City, I could fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! And we're back for a weekend-long bomb! Woot! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around during my break. I have enough chapters written that I can resume posting normally after this weekend. This upcoming week could change some things (why can't life just chill the fuck out for a minute jfc) for me. My boss texted me about if I'd be interested in working from home IF it was offered. The VP of my department, from what I hear, is real sick of our current split shift schedule and is looking for a way to institute getting us back to the 9-5 grind. 
> 
> I would LOVE to work from home; that's what I fucking wanted from the beginning. My sleep has been shitty and I've just been really barely managing if I'm being honest. At least working from home will allow for a bit of normalcy with getting a consistent work schedule back. IF they do start it, it won't start until Wednesday, meaning this would be a long week for me. Ugh. IF I can work from home, it means my upload schedule will stick with Sunday. BUT if I have to do another week of this current schedule, then uploads will be on Saturdays until I'm back on my 9-5. I'm sorry that it's so up in the air, but I can't help my job being annoying, stupid pricks about this shit. If they had just done the right thing and gave us laptops to take home and work from home as soon as this 'rona situation started, we'd be fine. But no, why expect my job to do what's right for the employees it pretends to care about? 
> 
> Sorry, didn't mean for the anti-capitalist anti-business side of me to come out. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I will obviously keep you all updated as I find things out. In the meantime, weekend bomb! Woot! 
> 
> I've settled on an ending--Thanks btw to all the comments on my last upload! BUT, I'm still a little shaky on details. I'm going to do some heavy outlining and planning tonight, and I'm hoping I have more direction for this story come this time tomorrow. Idk, we'll see. 
> 
> That said, anyone surprised that Jacob and Serenity are booking it out of town? Can you blame them? If they leave, Andres will be all alone in the city. At least wrt the people who know what he went through. Poor thing. Wonder how that'll turn out. :3
> 
> Side note: I decided to reread Harry Potter, which I never did! I first read the first four books in elementary school, and then books 5-7 as they came out (book seven came out the summer before my junior year of hs!). So this is my first time ever rereading it! It's so fun! Harry is such a sassy little shit! He's 11 in this first book and JUST a sassy little shit! 
> 
> And he and Ron are soooooooo cute! Every time Malfoy walks up to them, they literally stand up ready to fight! Lol. I watch a lot of HP related content on Youtube for fun, and I remember one channel I follow, who LOVES the HP series, said how different Harry's actions look when you get his perspective and thoughts. Daniel, God bless his heart, plays Harry like such a good little kid in the movies. And Harry IS a really good kid, but he's got 'tude!!! Lol. So much attitude! He's so cute. I'm like, "no wonder we all loved this series: Harry is fucking awesome!" 
> 
> And don't even get me started on JK Rowling's writing. The grammar issues in the first book aside, she is BRILLIANT when it comes to storytelling. Like, I remember when I read the Deathly Hallows for the first time, having my mind blown at how she managed to pull in so many small things we would have overlooked and turned it into something major. But even on an individual book level, the way she sets shit up. The foreshadowing! The FUCKING FORESHADOWING! God, that woman is brilliant! 
> 
> I could really learn from her. She doesn't waste a single scene. Every scene drops little hints or sets up something major, no matter how small it seems. That's what a story should do. I post this story for fun, but if it was the sort of thing I'd want to publish (it's not, but if), I'd have to cut SO MUCH SHIT OUT. Like, I like doing the superfluous scenes, but I'd have to cut so much if I was writing for real. I'm having so much fun rereading it so far. I'm still on the Sorcerer's Stone, and it's sooooo much fun! 
> 
> Okay, that's it. Please leave comments and all that jazz. Let me know your thoughts! See you all tomorrow!


	17. Chapter 17

Evan was rough once morning came. And insatiable. I buried my face into the pillow, trying not to complain every time he pushed his dick into me. Each thrust was as painful as the last; I didn’t think he knew just how big he was. I could probably get used to it if he didn’t insist on fucking me as if the world was about to end.

I had woken up with his dick in me, and he already came twice before the sunrise started reflecting orange on the clouds. How was he so energetic this early in the morning? A loud groan escaped my lips, and Evan dropped to his elbows, his chest pressed against my back. His lips found my neck, kissing and biting me through it.

He was so close, so big, and surrounding me. It felt a bit overwhelming, like I didn’t have enough air to breathe. There was nothing for me to get off on, either. While Evan had kept his promise to make me come again last night, his movements were entirely selfish now. The end goal was his pleasure, mine be damned.

“Ow,” I muttered, trying to move my hips away.

Evan gripped my hip with one hand, forcing it still.

“Don’t,” he growled in my hear.

“It hurts,” I told him, his angle changing and hitting me harder. Deeper.

“You can take it. You took it so well last night.”

“You weren’t this rough last night!”

“Shh,” Evan shushed me, picking up speed.

How was he doing that?

“You’re so wet,” Evan said in my ear. I closed my eyes, as if that would shut out his words. “How can you complain when your body was _made_ for this?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. It wasn’t a real question. I liked sex when I had a say in it and the person wasn’t fucking me like some fifteen-year-old who watched way too much porn. When it was someone I knew, or at least liked. Hell, at least if I’d been taken out on a date first.

Evan’s hips slowed to an easy roll, changing angles and hitting my g-spot with every thrust. I let out a gasp, not expecting that change. Shit. Maybe it was just better if he fucked me however he wanted. It was weird feeling good when I wasn’t really consenting to all of this.

Also, why was Evan so good at that?

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice low in my ear. It sent a shiver down my spine. “You like it plenty when I do this, huh?” 

“Yes,” I moaned, gripping the bedsheets under me. Why lie? Especially when he could tell just from how my body moved to meet his thrusts how much I preferred it this way.

“Sex is great when _you_ can feel good, right?”

I nodded. Exactly.

“You look adorable like this,” Evan continued, a hand trailing up my side. “It makes me want to do this more; spoil you and watch you melt.”

His hips stilled, my body hot and wanting more. He moved and kissed my lips, and I turned to meet him. He chuckled as he kissed me, letting out a moan when I bit his lip. He pulled away, resting his head on the back of my shoulder, his shadow of a beard tickling me. He let out a heavy sigh while I waited.

“You’re going to have to unlearn that.”

“Huh?” I said, confused.

“Sex isn’t just fun and games.”

“It is if you do it right.”

“It’s not what God intended,” Evan corrected.

“Then why did he make it feel so good?” I challenged.

“To encourage people to be fruitful in their marriages. But we are better than the first man and wife; we aspire to live God’s way without having to be kicked out of Eden. Right?”

Whatever boner I’d started to build up was gone. So he was beating my pussy up to prove a point? Teach some stupid, biblical lesson? Bullshit. I reached back, pushing against his hips. It was pointless; I had no bearing to get him off me.

“As a wife, your focus on sex should be on pleasing your husband, and accepting my seed.”

I frowned. That was the grossest, unsexy-est thing I ever could have heard. 

“What? So you’re trying to impregnate me right now?” I asked.

He kissed the back of my neck again.

“Always.”

I pushed harder, wanting him out. His hips started to move, only to snap back against me. He set another fast pace, pushing me into the bed. It was a bit easier now that I was a bit used to him. But it still hurt. And he was still rough.

“Stop,” I said between breaths. “I can’t—”

Evan’s hand came up to my face, pressing against my mouth to silence me. The gesture shocked me, the mild threat there. I closed my eyes, breathing through my nose as he fucked me. I counted my breaths for a distraction, trying to think of anything other than how big Evan was.

“There you go,” Evan muttered in my hear. “Just relax and take it. Doesn’t that feel better?”

Evan’s hips sped up, if that was even possible, for almost a full minute before he pushed in and came. His hand fell from my face, allowing me to breathe fully. He collapsed on top of me, forcing me to fall completely on the bed. He slid out of me, kissing me all down my back.

Before I could get comfortable, Evan rolled off of me and started to move me. I thought he had another one in him somehow—despite his flagging dick—but all he did was push me onto my back in the bed. He found some pillows that had been thrown on the floor at some point and positioned them under my hip. I pretended not to know what that was about, and instead watched as he stretched out next to me.

“Am I allowed to pee?” I asked him, unable to keep the chagrin out of my voice.

Evan chuckled. “In a bit. I just need you here for now.”

I looked up at the ceiling, expecting that. After the wedding ceremony, Serenity, Jacob, and I were taken to what was a cluster of houses behind the intake building. It was a weird setup; I was used to houses that lined streets, maybe ending in in a cul-de-sac or dead end. Instead, these houses were just randomly placed together. There were different types: tall three-story buildings, small cottages, or long ranchers of various colors and designs.

All three of us were guided to a large, two-story blue house with white shutters that was next to a smaller, red house. Father declared this was our home, and our husbands took us inside after a polite applause from the rest of the compound. The rest of the night was spent in our separate rooms—thankfully—to enjoy our wedding nights.

I was surprised Evan had this much energy after how late we went.

“We share this house together?” I asked him, ignoring how he pinched and pulled at one of my nipples.

“Hmm?” he hummed, rolling my nipple in his fingers. I stifled the moan I want to get out. He had no way of knowing that my nipples were sensitive; he was exploring. “You mean with Declan and Mike?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice too breathy. Shit. That gave it away.

“Yes,” he said calmly, leaning down to kiss me.

“Like, forever?”

Evan tilted his head as if not sure what I was asking.

“Do you have a problem with Declan and Mike?”

“No,” I said immediately. “I just didn’t understand how this works is all.”

Evan hummed again, leaving my nipples be so he could run a hand down my chest and stomach, pausing at my hips.

“I mentioned that we’re all about community here,” he explained. “Marriages are done in groups of at least two. Usually we have them every other month or so, and about four or five couples are ready by then. Any couple that marries together lives together. Our children will be raised in this household with Declan and Mike’s children.”

That was odd, but on brand with how the Willows seemed to work.

“So, you guys eat together, get married together, and live together,” I said, as Evan leaned down to kiss at my neck and chest. I was getting pretty used to that. “Do you guys have orgies too?”

Evan chuckled again, moving to sit up. As he got out of bed, I watched as he walked around to a dresser across the room. He rolled his shoulders, raising his arms over his head to stretch. I was sure he was doing that for my benefit. That wasn’t going to distract me from the fact that he didn’t answer my question.

“You totally do,” I said, watching him reach into a drawer and dig through it. He pulled out a small, wooden box and went through it. “You guys totally have orgies here. Do you do it at the big table, or is it like a free-for-all where—”

“Are you nervous?” Evan asked, turning around and walking back over to me. He sat down next to me, turning his torso to face me. He looked serious.

“I wasn’t until you asked me that,” I mumbled, meeting his eyes.

Evan watched me for a moment, not believing that. I looked down at his hands, seeing him pull something small and glass-like out of a black, drawstring pouch.

“You ask a lot of questions when you’re anxious,” Evan continued, the item disappearing in his hand. “I understand being anxious, but I can’t help you through it if you insist on lying to me about it.”

I let out a deep breath, my mind going a mile a minute. I didn’t want Evan to help me through my anxiety; it would go away if he just let me go home! But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that was likely going to happen, so I just nodded.

“This whole thing is just weird,” I said, deciding to give him what he wanted: a bit of honesty. “I’m just trying not to freak out about it all.”

“It upsets you being here,” he asked. Well, it wasn’t really a question.

“It upsets me that you brought us here after killing my mentors, forced me into marrying you, and you’re raping me. And now you’re sitting here acting like we’re a couple of happy newlyweds when we’re not.”

“Those are some ugly words you used there,” Evan said, calmly. “‘Force.’ ‘Rape.’ You will not use them again.”

“I didn’t consent to any of this,” I challenged through gritted teeth.

“Everyone here on the compound saw differently last night.”

I scoffed. “You’re really going to sit there and pretend I had a choice in any of this?”

“You always have a choice, Andres,” Evan said. “Last night could have gone very differently depending on the choices you made.”

“You would have for—” I cut myself off, hating that I was even abiding by his stupid rules. Forced was the right word to use; just because he didn’t like it didn’t make it less true. “You would have made me do it all anyway. Where is the choice?”

Evan watched me curiously, and I sat up just to get some sort of leverage. He didn’t make me get onto my back again, which I was a bit grateful for.

“Do you know what submission is, Andres?” he asked me.

“I’m not a child,” I snapped.

“I never said you were. I just don’t think you understand what I’m asking of you.”

“You’re asking me to do whatever you want, basically.”

Evan nodded. “If I were abusive—called you horrible names and berated you, beat you within an inch of your life every single day—should you submit to me?”

I blinked at him, shrugging. Declan was a monster and Jacob was still expected to submit. Nothing Evan described seemed too much different from that. But I could tell from Evan’s face that there was, somehow, a difference.

Supposedly.

“I don’t know how you want me to answer that,” I admitted.

“Do you trust that the answer I have to that question is the right one?” he pressed.

I didn’t have an answer to that either.

“I don’t know.”

“The Nation does not care to make its citizens submissive; they want us compliant. Give an order and we obey indefinitely. That’s not what we’re asking from you, Andres. The Lord asks us all to submit to His will. To trust that His vision for us, His desire and laws are built for our betterment. It is when we submit to God’s path that we can live happily.”

“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t believe a single bit of that shit. Nor did I see the difference between that and complacency.

“To trust me is to trust in the Lord,” Evan continued. “Yes, I could force you into all of this, but that’s not what I want. I want you to trust me so I can lead you to God’s glory. That is what submission is: trusting in the Lord’s plan and giving up trying to control everything.”

“So if I fought you yesterday,” I asked, his words contradictory and plain stupid, “and didn’t let you bind my magic, what would you have done to me? If I didn’t go along with this, what then?”

“I would have had to kill you,” Evan said easily.

Something in me broke then. I wish I had my magic so I could let the heat of it warm me up. Provide a little solace in this. But I didn’t even have that because this asshole took it from me. He made me give it up and was now telling me he would have killed me if I hadn’t. Choice my ass.

“How do I have a choice then?” I said, my voice cracking as I did. “If you would have killed me, how is that a choice?”

“There are always repercussions for our actions,” Evan said. “I asked you to trust me, to trust the Lord, and you did. And you’re still here as a result. Through your trust in the Lord, He has given you life. You could have chosen death, Andres. You _always_ have a choice.”

I shook my head, tears escaping. “I hate you,” I told him honestly. “I fucking hate you.”

Evan sighed, leaning down until our foreheads touched.

“I know you’re upset,” he told me. “I’m asking a lot from you. So I will forgive that this time. But those words are very ugly as well. You will never say them again. Do you understand?”

I let out another sob, nodding. I hated him so much.

“Good. Now, lie down so I can put this in.”

I let him push me onto my back, seeing the glass thing in his hand again. I froze, grabbing his wrist.

“What is that?” I demanded.

He held it up, and I still wasn’t sure what it was. It looked like an egg shaped, glass paperweight.

“It’s a yoni egg,” he explained calmly. “I’m going to use it as a plug; like a knot if we were lesser animals. This will keep everything inside and I can trust you to go to the bathroom without trying to sabotage anything.

I blinked at him, letting go of his wrist. The egg wasn’t particularly thick, and its cool surface was a welcomed reprieve after having his dick in me all morning. It went in easily considering how wet I was, and felt snug inside.

Evan leaned forward, kissing me again. I let him, feeling no comfort from it. I was relieved when he finally pulled away.

“The bathroom is right next to us, on the right,” he said. “No dawdling.”

I nodded as Evan moved off me. I was off the bed in seconds, all but racing to the door. No one was moving around the hallway—if my morning with Evan was any indication, I was sure they were also in bed—so I went into the bathroom nude, locking the door behind me.

I took a few deep breaths, happy to finally be alone for just a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foooooooooooooor some reason, this chapter makes me feel insecure. Idk why. Hmmm. Reading it back, I liked some things I did, but I still feel very insecure about it...
> 
> Guess who didn't do any outlining last night! Lol. It's fine. I'll probably do a bit of it tonight. Maybe. We'll see. 
> 
> The choosing life versus death line is something very familiar to me. I wasn't raised in the church exactly, but my mother is religious, and my grandmother is a Jehovah's Witness. I grew up hearing a lot of Christian rhetoric, not to mention the stints where we were going to church consistently. My mother is Baptist, and it's a familiar line in Christianity: choosing God is choosing "life." 
> 
> Evan really believes it, too. 
> 
> The Willows doesn't really have time for overly difficult brides. Jacob, honestly, is only alive because Declan likes the challenges. The prick. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be really fun. I think it's a good place to leave off for the week. 
> 
> Please leave comments with what you all think! This chapter in particular is making me so nervous, so let me know if it's warranted lol. À demain!!


	18. Chapter 18

“Does it bother you that they’re leaving?”

I let out a heavy breath, looking at the clock above David’s head. I showed up for my bi-weekly therapy sessions because I knew it made my mother feel better about everything. And sometimes, I would actually talk to David about my day; let him do his job. But sometimes, I didn’t want to say shit.

It was a waste of money, but I was lucky enough to afford it.

“C’mon, Andres,” David said, leaning back in his chair. I appreciated that he didn’t sit there with a notepad the way therapists did in movies. He had to keep pushing his dark hair out of his face or else it would cling to his glasses. “We’ve only been at this, like, fifteen minutes. It’s not time yet for you to be counting down the minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, turning back to look at him. He was old enough to be my father, and pretty fit. Married though, if the ring on his left hand was an indicator. “What was the question?”

“If it’s bothering you that Jacob and Serenity are leaving?” David repeated.

I shrugged. “Yeah,” I admitted. “It does.”

“Why do you think it’s bothering you?”

“ _That_ ,” I said, my heel tapping against the floor. “The fact that I don’t know why it’s bothering me. I should be happy for them, but it’s actually pissing me off.”

“Is it what they said to you that’s triggering something? Or just them leaving period?”

I wasn’t sure how differentiating between the two was helpful, but I did think about it. Serenity wanted to escape the memory, and running into Jacob and me made that impossible. And Jacob wanted to make sure the Willows couldn’t touch him. Literally. The more I thought about it, the more their reasonings really pissed me off.

“It feels like running away,” I said, squinting as I looked at the crystal paperweight on the small table next to David’s chair. “At first, that’s what I thought it was about. And it is, but more than that. Somehow.”

“Maybe not running away, but moving on.”

I blinked at David, frowning. Fuck him. Why was he so good at that? This was why I tried not to talk at these things. Because that was completely right. And now, I had to deal with why it pissed me off that they were moving on.

“They’re moving on, and I feel like I can’t,” I said, speaking my thoughts out loud.

“Do you think you’d be happier in another country?” David asked.

I shook my head. “Not really. The city is my home. I was born here. I was raised here. My entire family is here. I don’t see why _I_ have to leave because of them.”

“Not everyone is so attached to where they grew up.”

I nodded, getting it now. I couldn’t fault Serenity and Jacob for wanting to find a home elsewhere. Not everyone born in Faust City stayed. Jacob came from a small family, and his mother had some lucrative business that she could run from the UK if it came to that. And Serenity would have family out there: if Faust City didn’t feel safe, why wouldn’t she get out?

I didn’t have that, though. My parents’ careers were in the city; they wouldn’t be able to follow me wherever I might decide to fuck off too. And I didn’t want to leave them: they were my home. My culture. My religion. My mother’s magic flowed through my veins, as does her mother’s and her mother’s mother’s.

“I love being here,” I said. “I guess that’s why it pissed me off: I can’t understand why they’re able to leave it so easily. It was like an insult.”

But I didn’t need to take it personally.

“But you don’t need to take it personally.”

I smiled at David so I wouldn’t roll my eyes.

“No. I don’t.”

“But you do have to move on.”

My smile fell. “Am I not?”

“You tell me? Aside from that personal afront, it’s likely that Jacob and Serenity leaving also made you question whether _you’re_ doing anything to move on from what happened.”

I glanced at the clock again. Still had well over half an hour.

“I don’t think so,” I told him.

“Really? What ever happened with that job offer? Did you accept it?”

I hesitated. It had only been a week; I didn’t need to give my answer right away.

“No,” I finally said.

“Are you going to?”

I shrugged. “Maybe? Probably.”

“What’s holding you back from saying yes?” David pushed. Always fucking pushing. “You said that your lawyer and this advocate woman basically said you’re sticking around for good. And you’re telling me now that you love the city. That you don’t want to go anywhere. So why not take the job and solidify your place here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered.

“Is it guilt? Because it was your mentor’s job?”

A wave of energy swept over the rooming, bringing the temperature down a few degrees. A _noticeable_ few degrees. David didn’t move nor falter; he told me early on that he knew how to snuff magical temper tantrums. And I believed him. So I took a deep breath in and out, letting the magic break. I rubbed at the goosebumps on my arm as the temperature rose.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“Andres,” David said, his voice gentle. “You can’t carry that with you.”

“It was before they took my magic away,” I said. “I should have done something to stop it. Put a ward around the car so they wouldn’t have had access, or at least—”

“Can’t Evan use magic?”

I nodded.

“Then how do you know he wouldn’t have just cut through the ward?”

I shook my head. He wasn’t getting it.

“I still could have _tried_. I was afraid of escalating it, but as soon as they pulled their guns out, I should have done something.”

“Could have, would have, should have,” David said. “If you revealed that you could do magic in that way, they _could have_ killed you immediately. _Would have_ , probably. Or at least _would have_ just killed everyone. Or maybe Evan _would have_ bound your magic completely. See how we can play this game all day?”

“But what if—”

“We can play the _what if_ game too. And you’ll drive yourself to a mental break doing that.”

I blinked away tears, trying not to hear Gus’ voice singing along to his bad music in my ear.

“So what?” I said when I felt safe talking again. “I just move on like nothing happened?”

“Of course not, Andres. You move on to honor those who can’t. It’s not your fault that you’re alive and he’s not. You have no reason to feel guilty for surviving. You’re alive: you’re allowed to live your life.”

That seemed reasonable. It _sounded_ reasonable. But it didn’t make me feel better. How was I supposed to live when Gus and Bev were dead? When there were so many women and surrogates at the Willows still? Was I really allowed to move on?

“It’s going to take a while,” David said in my silence. “I don’t expect you to just get over it like that. But taking steps forward in your life to move on will help. Among some other things.”

I looked up. “What other things?”

David smiled at me. “How do you feel about volunteer work?”

~*~

I found my mother in the backyard, meditating in the garden by the patio that also served as her alter. I saw from the red and black cloths lining the small table that she was communing with Eleguá. A statue of his black head with cowry shells for eyes, nose, and mouth sat in the middle, bowls of yellow rice from yesterday’s dinner and tobacco offered beside the small black and red candles lit.

If my mother was honoring Eleguá, it meant she needed permission to do some powerful magic. I frowned, quietly walking over to the shrine, sitting next to her in the grass. I could feel the hum of magic around my mother even before I saw the red energy around her. Not about to mess up her ritual by bringing her out of it, I closed my own eyes.

I wasn’t too familiar with Eleguá; in typical faction for someone my age, I disregarded a lot of the traditions in Santeria. Waiting for Eleguá’s approval to do a spell seemed like a waste of time. And I never personally had issues casting spells without reaching out to him.

So I was tentative in reaching out to him, unsure what my goal even was. I hadn’t casted a proper spell since before my time in the Willows. Even in the time I’d been back, it felt too foreign to try. I’d spent months praying to the Christian God at the Willows; how could I give proper respect to the Oricha now?

An image popped into my head, of Elegua holding keys. It was a basic patakí: Elegua had been given the keys to the past, present, and future. He rules all paths and crossroads. A guide for the lost.

And I felt lost, floating by doing the same thing I was doing before the Willows. Only now, my heart wasn’t in it. Nothing seemed right anymore.

My path had become unclear.

“Elegua showed me you coming here,” my mother said suddenly, shocking me from my thoughts. I watched as she drew a counterclockwise circle in the air, the magic that was humming exploding only to then dissipate in a shower of red raindrops. “He showed me a crossroads, with you standing there.”

She looked at me, her dark eyes sad. I frowned, then shrugged. I hated how sad she looked at me these days. No matter what she tried to fake, that sadness was always there.

“I want to apologize,” I said instead.

She raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For snapping at you last weekend. You never got to yell at me for it.”

My mother sighed, shaking her head. She moved then, blowing out the candles.

“If I truly wanted to yell at you, I would have done it the day after,” she said. Which was true. I had expected it, shocked when she spent the last week acting as if nothing had happened. “Now that you are home, I spend every moment we’re apart worrying about you. Afraid that those motherfuckers will come for you again. The first thing I do in the mornings is cast ten different protection spells on you.”

“I know,” I said. Because I saw them when I woke up; the white and black magic that strengthens the ones already surrounding me just by being in the city. “Still, I know that me disappearing had an effect on you. I could have been more sensitive to that.”

“But you are,” my mother said, looking at me with watery eyes. She kept the tears back. “You think I can’t tell how much you hold back now? You never talk about what happened. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells, trying to act like your old self. Like you’re holding your breath, waiting to exhale. I hate watching you do that, Andres. I don’t want you to have to do that.”

I went quiet. I didn’t really have an answer to that. It was true. And hearing my mother acknowledge it made my animosity grow a bit; there was no way she was the only one who felt it. My father, Blue, Kelvin—everyone had to feel it. So then why did they insist on making me have to behave this way?

I let out a breath. No, it wasn’t that anyone was making me behave a certain way: I was the one struggling to move on. I was the one afraid to bring it up in case it made people feel uncomfortable. If I was too afraid to talk about it, why should I expect anyone else to not be afraid?

“Okay,” I said. “I don’t want to keep holding my breath either. I want to move on.”

My mother’s breath hitched, the tears threatening to spill. She still held them back, smiling.

“I don’t know why that made me so happy,” she said, bringing a hand to her face. “When Elegua showed me that image of you, it clicked, you know? How you can’t move forward if I’m here holding you back. Treating you like some child. A bird can’t learn to fly if the mother nips at his wings when he tries.”

“That’s a pretty silly analogy,” I told her.

“Shut up,” she said, laughing away her tears. “I’m trying to be mature and understanding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Continue.”

My mother shook her head, putting her mom-face back on.

“Despite that, you are still living under my roof. And so I want to know if and when you’re coming home at night. So we’ll do it this way: I expect you home at midnight—yes, weekends too; don’t give me that look, Andres. If you’re not here by midnight, do not come home. And if you’re not coming home, just text me, and not right before midnight; give me a heads up.”

I swallowed.

“I never had a curfew before,” I said.

“You never needed one before.”

I nodded. Fair point.

“Okay,” I said. “I can agree to that.”

“And in the meantime,” my mother continued, “I’ll give you your space to be an adult. I won’t blow up your phone when you’re out. And—”

“Yeah, about that,” I said, glancing at the statue of Elegua. I needed to step forward; get off the crossroads and down an actual path. “So, in the spirit of moving forward, I wanted to tell you that I was offered a teaching position at Tulane.”

My mother’s eyes got as wide as saucers. I could see the way her speeding heart rate made the magic around her pulse in sync.

“Did you accept it?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Not yet. But I’m going to. Tomorrow, even, if I can track down Dr. Moore.”

“Oh, my god!” my mother cried, throwing herself on me and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe this! You’re going to be a teacher just like your mother!”

“A professor,” I corrected when I was able to get air in my lungs. She laughed. “It’s only three classes, but I might get full time next spring semester.”

“That is the best thing I ever could have heard,” she said, finally letting me go and wiping away actual tears. At least they were of joy. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to figure out how to say this next part. “Thank you. And, you know all things considered, I thought it would be smart for me to, you know, move out.”

My mother frowned at me. “Does this have anything to do with what that advocate lady was saying about living your life?”

“Yes, and no,” I said. “I’m twenty-six, Mama. Most people are living on their own by my age.”

“Sure, rich white kids and the Black kids whose mean mamas kick them out as soon as they turn eighteen.” My mother paused before continuing with, “No offense to your grandmother.”

Yeah, I knew my father’s mother would love to hear my mother’s not-so-humble brag at being a better parent. But my father was long over that resentment of being forced on the street before he even graduated high school. My grandmother even threatened my father at my undergrad graduation party to not kick me out until I was good and ready.

No one dared point out her hypocrisy then. We all valued our lives too much.

“I’m just saying, _mijo_ ,” my mother said, her voice gentle again, “that I don’t want you thinking me setting a curfew was to push you out. My family has always kept the children in the house until they were ready to be on their own. You wouldn’t have been able to go after your dreams if your father and I didn’t support you through them.”

“I know, Mama. And I appreciate how much you guys have supported me,” I told her. “But how more ready can I be? I have my doctorates, I’m going to be a professor in the fall, I still have my gig at the school’s research lab: I’m as successful as I can be right now. This is the perfect time for me to go out on my own. Figure this adult thing out.”

My mother took a deep breath in before letting it out. She wanted to beg me to stay. I could see it in her eyes. The hesitation and worry and concern. The love that only a mother could feel for her child. I saw all of it in her eyes.

But she needed to let me out the nest.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “You’re right—shut it! You will never hear that from me again. I know you need to do this and as long as you let me and your father go with you to look at places and put our stamp of approval before signing anything, I will support you in this as well.”

I pulled her into a hug, and she promptly returned it.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing the top of her head.

“Please tell me you’re not getting a place with Kelvin,” she muttered.

“Never.”

“What did I do to deserve such a smart son?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a good one to end on I feel, lol. 
> 
> About that comment about rich kids and mean Black mamas: as the daughter of a mean Black mama who at least hasn't kicked me out despite me staying well past my welcome, it's a joke! Reading it back, I laughed because it's the sort of thing my friends would joke about. But I'm also not Latina, so I hope that doesn't come off as offensive. I have noticed in my personal life how quick Black parents are to push their children out of the nest. I had a friend who's grandmother kicked him out as soon as he turned 18, and he turned 18 at the start of his senior year of high school. If he didn't find a program that provided housing to, essentially, homeless teens, he would have had to drop out. He's actually back in school now, working on his associates, and I'm so proud of him. I really want the best for him. 
> 
> I think I was sort of channeling his story when I wrote that: it is something I notice in Black families. I think it's dying out, though. Again, my mother has yet to kick me out (and I'm well at the age where no one would blame her if she did lol). I remember listening to some Latina girls I used to roll with talk about how they found the American pressure parents (white ones too; they just help their children get their own place instead of forcing them out on the streets) put on their children to move out ASAP weird. They kinda bragged about how their parents expected them to stay at home until they got their degrees and even got married pretty much. 
> 
> It's similar to weaning, I guess. Letting the child decide when they're ready to move off breastfeeding. I like that mentality better than forcing barely legal teenagers on the street. 
> 
> Idk why I'm preaching rn. 
> 
> Anyway, I liked this reading it back! A lot of work being done here for Andres. I really related to the "move on" thing. I think I was sort of therapizing myself lol. His mother is such a sweetheart, and she really loves her son. Lucca wasn't allowed any parental relationships in the last story, so it's nice to be able to showcase what having loving and supportive parents can do for you. I really enjoy writing Andres with his mother especially. They'd always been close--despite his younger preference for his father--and they have such a sweet bond. Andres is her only baby, so she loves him fiercely. I hope that came across! 
> 
> So as of right now, the next update is going to be Saturday. No one said anything at work about whether or not we'll be working from home, but I think it is coming. I overheard my mother talking to my grandmother, and she said this girl in is kinda like a special projects person in my department is getting fired. It's sad because she's a sweetheart, but she doesn't really have a place after her old position was dissolved. 
> 
> On top of that, there's a monthly audit my department does at the beginning of every month, and usually she gets some accounts to look over to help us out. We came in today with some but she didn't. =/ My other coworker on my pod told me she was asked about working from home too. We talked about whether we'd do it (I said hell yes, bitch, but she says she wants interaction with people lol. I'll suffer at home idc), and I guess she said something to the other girl (the one getting fired). I didn't know she did it, but I got a text from my boss saying we're not supposed to talk about it because not everyone is having it offered to them. And she texted the other girl specifically saying that two girls from the other pod weren't offered it (one girl from the other pod was, but that's because she's pregnant and already high risk due to her age, so duh). 
> 
> What's funny is my coworker realized that they were asking our pod (and preggo) so that way we don't have to worry about pods being cross contaminated and ruining why we started our pod schedule. And lowkey because the other two women on the other pod either can't work from home, or maybe shouldn't be trusted to work from home lol. Either way, I was like, "Hmm, why didn't [girl getting fired] get asked then?" and my coworker didn't catch what I meant. Sigh. Tomorrow will be interesting to say the least. 
> 
> Either way, I'm hoping tomorrow is when I hear either way. But as of now, I'm still working this three day a week shit. So next upload will be Saturday. IF I start work from home, I'll post on Saturday, and then again on Sunday to reestablish the Sunday post day. Just so no one shows up Saturday confused and disappointed. 
> 
> Okay, that was a lot. Sorry for all the rambling. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave comments!!!! See you all on Saturday!


	19. Chapter 19

“There’s food here?”

Jacob looked up from his seat at the kitchen’s island, a wrapped plate sitting in front of him. Evan kept me in bed for one more round before letting me head to the shower. He was even kind enough to let me shower alone. I had to ask him for permission to leave the room while he took a shower for himself. Thankfully, he allowed it after emphasizing that I wasn’t to leave the house.

After finding the long, white tunics and pants for surrogates and getting dressed, I found the stairs easily down the hall and explored the ground floor.

It was just as spacious downstairs with both a den and a living room. The den opened to a spacious dining room with a wide, oval table in the middle. All of the furniture was surprisingly modern looking: sleek black tables and uncomfortable yet stylish matching chairs, sofas, and couches gave each room a comforting minimalist vibe.

I was wondering if every house was furnished that way, and if not, who decided which house got decorated which way when I found the kitchen. My stomach started to grumble immediately. There was a black island in the middle of the room, a couple of empty, glass jars sitting on top. The counters lining the walls were also sleek, and were sparingly littered with appliances: a small toaster, a large coffee maker, and a new rice cooker. Even the ovens and stove were big enough to make me want to cook a huge meal just to give them a whirl.

And I never cooked.

But it didn’t look like it was needed. I walked over to one of the plates, immediately recognizing the biodegradable wrapping covering the food. It wasn’t completely opaque, so I was able to make out some eggs and sausage. In the middle of the table were bowls of mixed fruit, small muffins, and a large jug of orange juice. There were also three small glass cups with an assortment of pills in them. I picked one up, seeing Jacob’s name written on it. I glanced at the other one and saw that Serenity and I had cups too.

“Who left this here?” I asked.

Jacob shrugged. “Probably someone from the compound. One of the girls yesterday said we probably won’t be leaving the house today.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Honeymoon.”

Jacob’s face was blank, his voice void of any emotion when he said it. I nodded, understanding. So I wasn’t the only one who spent all morning in bed getting my brains fucked out. I sat down at the corner, eyeing the muffins. My stomach grumbled as I looked at them, though Jacob stayed still.

“Why aren’t you eating?” I asked him.

Jacob shrugged again, his new default response.

“Afraid it’s poisoned?” I joked.

“Probably,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No, not the food. The pills are different; there’s one that’s obviously a prenatal vitamin, but other ones there I can’t recognize. And they never took our blood to be able to see what we could be lacking in, so I doubt it’s more vitamins.”

Curious, I picked up the glass that was mine, and sorted through the pills. There was a large, off-white tablet, as well as two small, dark blue softgel, and two long, vegetable-based capsule.

“Definitely a prenatal,” I said, tossing the big one back in the cup. “The softgel is vitamin D—and this capsule is likely some sort of herbal blend for anxiety. They seem to think I have it.”

Jacob grabbed his glass, and looked at the pills he had too. He had four versus my five. Jacob was good at identifying drugs; a lot of his research was based on drugs’ effects on fetal development. But the vitamins likely threw him off; the only way to figure out what was in the capsule would be to cut it open. And something told me that none of the husbands would appreciate that.

“Pretty much the same,” Jacob said, frowning. “Except they have a sertraline in here.”

“Oh snap,” Serenity said, coming up behind us and sitting down next to me. “They handing out drugs?”

“Not the fun kind,” I told her.

Serenity grabbed the last cup, looking inside.

“Definitely all vitamins,” she said, frowning. “Shame. I was sort of hoping for a xanny.”

“Why? You stressed?” I asked her.

“Aren’t you? This bitch looking at me to be some fucking pillow princess.”

“Oh, so you’re not used to taking the strap?”

“Hell, no! Not to mention the fucking dild—”

“Can you two shut up?” Jacob snapped, frowning at us.

Serenity frowned at him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Jacob gave her an incredulous look, and I jumped in before the two of them started down a path none of us needed.

“Alright,” I said, leaning forward after a quick glance over my shoulder. “Listen: we’re all going to be living here together, and I’m sure we all can agree it’s fucking weird. At the very least, can we not turn on each other?”

Jacob let out a heavy breath and nodded. Serenity followed, also glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer.

“Not all of us can survive having meltdowns, Jacob,” she said to him. “So I gotta pretend this is business as usual.”

“I’m sorry,” Jacob sighed. “But _I_ can’t just pretend that this is normal. That makes _me_ freak out. And he—” Jacob cut himself off, hesitating. “He _likes_ hurting me. But I’m trying not to do what I did yesterday.”

“Okay,” Serenity said with a nod. And that was that.

“Is that why you’re not eating yet?” I asked Jacob. “In case that’s wrong?”

Jacob nodded. He kept his gaze over my shoulder, where he could see the door to the kitchen easily.

“This morning, I got out of bed to pee and when I got back, h-he punished me. I guess I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“That’s so stupid,” Serenity said. “How can he punish you for rules you don’t know about yet?”

“He said it’ll help me remember them,” Jacob muttered.

“That’s fucked up,” I grumbled, angry. “That motherfuck—”

“What a foul mouth we have here!”

We all turned, watching as Declan walked into the kitchen in his standard Willows white. He came to the end of the island, next to me, leaning down so that his head was near mine.

“You always got that foul a mouth, Andy?”

I bristled at the remark as well as nickname. I didn’t meet his eye when I shook my head.

“What was that?” he said, loudly. “Did you say something?”

“No,” I said.

“Really? Because it sounded pretty foul a second ago.”

“I don’t normally…” my voice trailed off. Declan stared at me, expecting more. I glanced over at Jacob, who watched Declan like a deer in headlights. “Curse. I don’t normally curse.”

“Why are you looking at him?” Declan barked. “If you need to look at someone, you look at the man talking to you.”

I did, meeting his cool eyes. Declan couldn’t have been much older than I was, if he was older than me at all. Yet he still regarded me the way one might a child. I felt my face burn with anger. If I had my magic, I’d teach him respect.

“Good boy,” he said after a second of watching me. “Now if you don’t normally curse, why did you think it was a good idea to suddenly start?”

It didn’t seem like a real question, but Declan was looking at me as if he were expecting an answer. I swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Declan straightened, looking at the door. “Maybe your husband will get a better answer out of you.”

I looked over my shoulder just as Evan entered the room. He raised an eyebrow at Declan as he walked over to give me a quick kiss. Declan moved to do the same to Jacob, who was still as a statue through it. Evan sat across from me, glancing down at the food on the table.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure who he was addressing, so I was a little grateful that Declan immediately opened his mouth to tattle.

“Your wife has a colorful vocabulary,” Declan said, watching me squirm. “I was just explaining to him that we do not curse in this household. It reflects badly on the Lord to use such vile language.”

“Yes, it does,” Evan agreed, looking up and meeting my eyes. He had a calm look on his face, but that didn’t stop the way my heart sped up. “How many ugly words did you hear?”

“Two,” Declan said, kissing Jacob on the temple. When he spoke again, it was to Jacob. “Look at how tense you are. Did hearing those ugly words upset you?”

That caught Jacob off guard, and he looked between me and Declan.

“I—”

“Shhhh,” Declan hushed him, pulling him into a hug and rocking him gently like a child. “Don’t worry; Evan will take care of it for you.”

Evan sighed, standing. Since we were on the end, it was easy for him to come around to my side, a firm hand on my underarm. Getting the message loud and clear, I stood up, letting him guide me over to the island’s edge. He made me lean against it, my forearms on the cool stone. I looked up at Jacob, meeting his wide eyes as we both tried to make sense of what was happening.

_Whack!_

I jumped at the first hit, the slap on my ass surprising me. It also hurt; Evan was not playing around. I thought of pulling away, but before I could even try to do anything, Evan came down again with another forceful slap. I let out a small cry, pushing up to my hands.

It was then that it hit what had happened: I’d been spanked! Evan spanked me! Like a child. Not even that; I’d never been spanked as a child. My parents didn’t believe in it. I’d never even gotten a pop on the mouth for talking back. No one had never laid a hand on me that I didn’t want. It was bad enough having to deal with Evan touching me when I had no say, but I had to tolerate him hitting me?

“Sit down,” he told me in my ear as he moved to sit back down.

I took a quick breath before moving, pretending I didn’t feel the dull throb on my ass as I sat back across from him.

“See?” Declan said, kissing Jacob’s cheek again. “All better.”

He moved to sit down across from Jacob, and I couldn’t help but glare at him. He was so lucky that Serenity was sitting between us.

“Andres,” Evan said, grabbing my attention. “You should apologize to the other wives for having to tolerate your ugly language.”

I blinked at him, my face going hot again. God, did I wish I had my magic. I turned to Jacob, his brow furrowed in consternation.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Then I glanced at Serenity next to me, who was starting resolutely at her food. “I’m sorry.”

The two of them just nodded.

“Oh, wow,” a voice from the doorway said.

We all looked, watching Mike come in wearing the men’s white uniform. The top of her hair was a bit disheveled, though she did seem to try to finger comb it back. She walked over to Serenity, giving her a kiss on top of her head, before walking around the island and sitting across from her.

“Didn’t mean to the be the last one down here,” she said as she settled in, looking at the food.

“What, did you get a call from work?” Declan asked, conversationally.

“Yeah, just a minor issue. They would fall apart if I took a traditional honeymoon.”

“You should, just to leave ‘em high and dry.”

“Maybe one day,” Mike said, laughing. “Oh, this is our first meal as a household. How nice.”

“And the wives were smart enough to know to wait for everyone to get here before eating,” Declan mocked, looking at each of us. “Aren’t they precious?”

“Declan,” Evan said suddenly, his eyes on Declan. “Would you like to lead us in grace?”

Declan stared at Evan for a long minute, the rest of us unsure what we were witnessing. Was this some sort of power struggle? A struggle for the alpha male? Declan’s face grew a smile; one that was cold as ice.

“Of course,” he said, laying out his hands for Jacob and Serenity to take. “I’m guessing you mean something more than ‘rubba-dub-dub, thanks for the grub’?”

“Very,” Evan said, reaching for my hand. “Nevermind, I’ll handle it. Can everyone bow their heads?”

I took Serenity’s hand, bowing my head but keeping my eyes open. As I looked around, I saw Declan was the only other person who’s eyes were open as well. He, thankfully, wasn’t looking at me, but rather Evan, a glare on his face.

Declan was going to be a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! Welcome back! Hope everyone had a great week! 
> 
> Some news! I know I said I would upload today no matter what, and I am doing that. I also said that there will only be another chapter uploaded tomorrow, to reestablish the Sunday schedule, IF I started working from home. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Well, GUESS WHO'S WORKING FROM HOME!!!! 
> 
> Woot! 
> 
> It starts Wednesday, but I'm not going into tomorrow and just losing the hours. I can afford it right now, and I'll be back on schedule come Monday. It's only me and one other coworker, and a few other people in the outer office. I'm not sure how long it'll last: apparently my mother has been putting the bug in my boss's ear that this situation has me stressed as hell, so even if things start reopening, I might be able to keep this going well until June. No promises, but we'll see. 
> 
> At the very least, I'm going back to Monday-Friday, and after Tuesday, working a proper 8 hour schedule like a normal human being. Working from home is going to be a bit weird, but I'm happy to be back on a routine that I can sustain. These eight hours shifts are rough, and I'm not a spring chicken anymore! Getting up before 5 three days a week literally is hell. Hell, getting up at 6 is rough these days lol. 
> 
> Speaking of sleep, I've been sleeping very well the past few days. My anxiety has really affected my sleeping over the past few years. I feel like I go through moments where I start a week with my sleep being pretty good, but by Wednesday, I start only getting like four hours of sleep. And then I start going crazy. 
> 
> I sat down and came up with a plan to help myself sleep more, but, hiliariously enough, the day I started it was the day I went to bed at a decent time and then got eight hours of sleep. I think the stress of not sleeping, as well as anxiety over this working from home will-they-won't-they-let-me shit and the long shifts was what was really messing with my sleep. The second all of that was gone and I got an answer, and it was the best case scenario, I was able to breathe. I'm hoping that after a few weeks of working from home, my sleep routine will be corrected fully. That's wishful thinking, but I'm hopeful considering how well the past few days have been. 
> 
> So yes, tomorrow will be another upload, and I'll be returning on Sundays again with updates. 
> 
> Regarding the story: isn't Declan an ass? God, I hate him. 
> 
> I wrote some fun stuff this week that is really helping me focus this story. I'm hoping to finish writing it by the end of June at the latest. We'll see. I had that goal with the last story this time around, and I feel like I have more to write before we're close to the end. But, whateves. We'll see. 
> 
> Please leave comments as usual! I love hearing from you all! See you tomorrow!


	20. Chapter 20

“How many people are on this compound?”

Evan opened the closet door, a full-length mirror hanging from the back of it. I sat on the bed—made military-style per Evan’s strict instructions—watching as Evan did his grey tie, matching with his fitted, grey suit. He didn’t answer me for a while, seemingly focused on his mission.

The Willows only allowed for newlyweds to spend one day in bed together before immediately joining back into everyday life. Evan didn’t need to explain that the rule was likely in place to prevent the people they kidnapped from staving off integration. Considering how fast everything had happened over the last couple of days, it made sense: a day getting fucked in bed to get us familiar with our husbands and then immediately thrown the wolves of the Willows.

They didn’t want to give us too much time to truly get upset over what was happening.

“Do you know how to do this?” Evan asked me, gesturing to his tie.

I hesitated before shaking my head. I rarely ever needed to wear ties. And the few times I did, either my mother or father did them for me. The few times my father tried to help me do it myself, I couldn’t stop it from ending up in a giant knot. I could never understand what I was doing wrong.

“Hmm,” Evan hummed, finishing up and running a hand through his curly hair. He looked rather dashing despite being a literal murderer, kidnapper, and rapist. “You will learn. You should be here doing this.”

I felt my stomach tighten. If he wanted a cute housewife to fix his ties for him in the morning, maybe he should have kidnapped one. There had to be submissive, Christian women in the Nation who would love to fill that role. Fuck, there were probably a few in the Willows.

“Okay,” I said, instead of voicing any of that. “I can’t promise it’ll look good.”

“You will learn,” he repeated, turning to smile at me.

There was a pause until I realized he wanted a response.

“I will learn,” I parroted, my voice flat.

“Wonderful,” Evan said, closing the closet door and walking over to the dresser.

He opened the top drawer, digging into it. The fact that he didn’t answering my question looming between us.

“What am I supposed to do all day if you’re at work?” I asked him. Maybe he’d answer that.

Evan didn’t answer. He pulled something out of the drawer before turning towards me. Without a word, he walked over, sitting next to me on the bed. He held out his hand, a classic looking watch with a brown, leather strap in his hand.

“Help me with this,” he ordered.

I looked up at him, hating how calm and patient his face looked. I took the watch, making sure the face was directed towards him before wrapping it around his wrist. I quickly did the clasp, pulling my hands back in my lap when I was finished.

Evan sat there in silence, as if waiting for something. When I looked up, he was watching me with a look that confirmed he was waiting. I had no idea what for.

“Why do you never answer my questions?” I finally asked.

Because it was true. Since the day before, he refused to answer anything I asked him. When he woke me up before the sun to take a shower with him, I asked him why I had to get up if he was the one who had to go to work. I didn’t get a response to that. When he banned me from getting dressed, even after he fucked me against the sink, he ignored my question then. And when I asked five minutes ago to finally get dressed, he was silent then as well.

It was becoming frustrating.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Evan said. “Would you like to address it?”

“I—” I cut myself off, unsure of how to even respond to that. “Is there a problem with me asking questions about this place you forced me to?”

“Now I know I’ve talked to you about that word,” Evan said, his voice a warning.

I paused, wondering what he was talking about. Then I remembered. Right. Forced. I wasn’t _forced_ into this.

“So what?” I pushed. “I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

“Rephrase that,” Evan ordered.

“Like, the question?”

“Don’t play stupid, Andres. It’s not as cute as you think it is.”

I bristled at that. Particularly because I wasn’t playing stupid. I took a few breaths, trying to think. He asked if I wanted to address this, yet he’s still refusing to answer my questions.

Fine.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking questions,” I told him.

Satisfied, Evan nodded.

“I disagree.”

He fucking disagreed. Of course, he fucking disagreed.

“Disagreeing doesn’t help me understand why it’s such a bad thing for me to ask questions,” I challenged.

“What mystical knowledge are you hoping to learn from your questions?”

I blinked. Was he fucking serious?

“You’re allowed to ask questions, but I can’t?” I asked.

“Rephrase that, or answer the question,” Evan said, his hazel eyes hard.

Whoops. He didn’t like that.

I let out a heavy sigh, thinking.

“I’m in a strange, new place,” I said, going with the latter. “Why—I mean, I think it’s fair for me to try to understand this place.”

Evan nodded again, as if considering.

“You said you were a doctor in the city?” he finally asked.

It was so off topic to what we were talking about that I had to pause just to ensure I didn’t get whiplash.

“Yes,” I answered.

“An actual medical doctor, or one of those—”

“An actual doctor, yes. I still have my medical license.”

“Were you still practicing?”

I shook my head, unsure where this line of questioning was going.

“So what were you doing?” he continued.

I swallowed. “Research. I still worked part time at the hospital, and I was also a TA.”

“I thought you graduated.”

“I went back part time so I could…” my voice trailed off. I didn’t want to tell him my goals. Hell, they didn’t really matter right now.

“Research,” Evan repeated, as if that was something major. “You must really love the scientific method, then.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to respond to that. But after he raised his eyebrow, I knew he wanted a response.

“It’s a basic part of any sort of research,” I said.

“So you used it a lot in your line of work?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the first step of the scientific method again?”

Oh.

I didn’t answer, my face heating up. I really wished I wasn’t naked; it made me feel even more like an idiot.

“I expected a response to that, Andres,” Evan warned.

“Ask a question,” I answered.

Evan nodded, letting me stew in that for a bit before speaking again.

“I get that this may seem like a lot at first,” Evan said, reaching for one of my hands and holding it. I had to force myself to stay still. “But everything you’ve asked that I’ve not responded to will be answered in due time. There is no need for so many questions: you will learn everything you’ll need to become a successful wife.

“On top of that, you’re asking so many questions because you’re trying to approach this in a way that’s most familiar to you: like a scientist. But you are not a scientist anymore, are you?”

“No,” I said, looking down at the wood floors.

“Exactly. You need to let all those bad habits go.”

“Okay.”

I felt oddly defeated. I knew I shouldn’t have, but how could I argue against that? In a weird way, he was right: I was trying to approach this scientifically. Serenity was too. We were both old enough to know that we’d break down, like Jacob, if we stopped. I didn’t want to stop: I didn’t want this place to break me.

“Good,” Evan said, tugging on my hand, guiding me to stand up. “Come over here. On your knees.”

I followed his orders, sitting on my knees between his legs. Even in his suit, I could make out the bulge of his dick. He was so big. He’d fucked me twice already this morning. It almost didn’t hurt the second time.

“This is where we need to begin and end every day,” Evan told me, moving to updo his pants. “With prayer and a bit of cock worship.”

I held back a cringe, watching him pull his dick out while thinking how both of those things sounded terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh. I didn't really like this chapter. But it's fine. It is what it is. We're marching forward! 
> 
> I'm hoping I can knock out a bunch of chapters soon. I want to do a post bomb, especially while I'm working from home, but I'm not far enough ahead where I feel comfortable doing that. I could do it now and still be a few chapters ahead, but I want more of a buffer. We'll see how this week goes. I'm hoping that I'll be able to get some decent amount of writing done between work. 
> 
> I want more moments with Evan and Andres, but I also need to show what life in the Willows was like. I have some things I'll probably say in the notes once I get to the end of this story, but this style of storytelling is both fun and difficult. Annnnywho...
> 
> Sorry this chapter kinda sucks. Next Sunday's will be much better: I promise! Please leave comments: you guys know I love them.


	21. Chapter 21

“And there’s plenty of space in the kitchen for the both of you.”

I looked up from my phone, snapping a picture of the living room balcony. The realtor smiled at me, sensing the awkward tension she created. I turned and met Lyle’s eyes, though he leaned against the island in front of the kitchen and smiled at me.

“Now you don’t have an excuse to not cook,” he teased.

I glared at him before turning back to the realtor.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I told her. “Just a friend.”

Lyle turned to the realtor—Kathy, was her name. “It’s complicated.”

“Stop. She doesn’t know you’re joking.”

Kathy blinked between us, softening her face when Lyle finally laughed. He apologized while I looked around the spacious living room. There was still furniture in it—left behind by the old renters who apparently bought new stuff when they moved. I was hoping they bought something more modern; the hippy old red couches and huge peace-sign area rugs were not my thing.

Still, the master bedroom was spacious, and the second bedroom would make a great office if this academia lifestyle stuck with me. The bathroom was immaculate; large with one of those Victorian style tubs that anyone would want to spend evenings soaking in. This apartment was perfect, just like the other five I’d looked at with Lyle.

Except…

“Is this island standard in all the units here?” I asked, walking over to the island and leaning against it.

“No,” Kathy said, looking a bit confused. “This unit was redone about a year or so ago, so the kitchen was updated.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, as if thinking about it. “Is there a unit I can see without the island in the kitchen?”

Kathy blinked. “I don’t know if there’s one open to rent. Is there a problem with the island?”

“I just don’t like them. If I paid to have it removed, do you think the property manager would mind?”

Bemused, Kathy shook her head. Lyle watched me quietly, consternation on his face as well. I easily ignored both of their looks, waiting for Kathy to answer.

“I doubt they’d go for that,” Kathy finally said, frowning. “Let me go call the property manager and see if there’s another open unit you could tour. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” I smiled at her as she left the room.

Lyle looked at me, an expectant look on his face. He didn’t say anything, though.

“What?” I asked.

“This is the sixth apartment we’ve seen today,” he said. “And that’s not even counting the three houses.”

“And?”

“Do you not want to move out of your parents’ place?”

I frowned at that. “Of course, I do. It was _my_ idea.”

“Then why are you looking for something to be wrong with every place we’ve seen? C’mon. Even you know no place is going to be absolutely perfect.”

“I’m not looking for something to be wrong,” I muttered, looking around. “I just know what I want.”

“Really?” Lyle pushed. “Because you complained that the houses were too big. She starts showing you apartments and it’s the most nitpicky nonsense I’ve ever seen. The last place didn’t have a big enough bathroom, the first one had blue walls, while that one place had wood floors. Now the island? I don’t—”

“Small standard bathrooms make me think about the bathroom Evan often fucked me in,” I interrupted, turning to lean against the island. Outside the open balcony door, I could see the blue clouds roll by. “Blue walls remind me of when Evan painted our bedroom blue to help ‘keep me calm’ since I supposedly had anxiety. The floorboards in that house were wood, and there was an island in the kitchen. Contrary to popular belief, there is always a method to my madness.”

Lyle let out a heavy sigh, and I waited for the awkward silence. Instead, Lyle moved to stand next to me, leaning his back against the island as we watched the sky together.

“Okay,” he said. “My bad. I should have figured there was a reason for it all and not your typical neurosis.”

I snorted. “I don’t have neurosis, and I’m sure someone out there would find that offensive.”

“Yeah, yeah. In that case, why not ask her to show you some ranch-styled houses? Those won’t be as big as the other houses we saw, and anything you don’t like, you can easily renovate.”

I sighed, hating how reasonable that sounded. Who the hell did Lyle think he was, being reasonable?

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “Do I really want to buy a house? That just seems so, I don’t know, _mature_.”

“What?” Lyle chuckled, looking at me. “Mature?”

“Yeah. Like the sort of thing married couples in their thirties do. Not single bachelors who’ve never even lived on their own before.”

Lyle sighed again, and I felt the air shift to something serious. I held my breath, bracing for impact. Whatever Lyle was about to say, there was a chance I might not like it.

“Want to know what your problem is?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! After all the flack I got from you about being in the closet?”

He had a point there. Shit. I had nothing to say against that.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Please enlighten me, oh wise one.”

“You are a commitment-phobe.”

“Wrong. Try again.”

Lyle laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m serious! I mean, even before the whole, you know, kidnapping thing. Why did it take you so long to finally get in my pants?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Because you were a closet-case who pushed me away at every turn?”

Lyle shook his head again. “Bull! I was looking for a reason to go there with you.”

“Hey, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to wake up the next day and regret it. Consent is sexy, you know.”

“That’s an excuse and you know it.” Lyle’s voice got softer, laughter still in his dark eyes. “I thought about you a lot after that night in the pool. Like, really thought about you. I thought about calling you as soon as I got home, wondering how you’d feel about long distance. I even looked up jobs in Faust City, in case it got to that point. And some in Toronto in case you wanted to come my way instead.”

“Ew, Canada?” I said, turning my nose. “Never.”

“Yeah, whatever. Either way, I just mean that I thought about _us_ , you know? Together. As a couple. Even before I found out what happened to you, all I could think was how you would be worth coming out to my parents over.”

I didn’t say anything to that. It didn’t deserve whatever snarky retort I could come up with. It was sweet. Kind. Romantic. Poetic. Adorable. Everything that Lyle was. It deserved way more than anything I was capable of giving.

It was wasted on me.

“Did you think about any of that?” he asked me, looking at me.

I met his eyes, immediately wishing I hadn’t. He was so earnest; it was what drew me to him initially. He reminded me of Chris from down the block, when all of this was so new and full of pretty possibilities. Before dating and love became a game to win. A way for an easy lay.

Lyle hadn’t been trying to play me; he was just curious. Interested. And then infatuated. It felt too good for me at the time, but I wanted it anyway. I wanted to remember what it felt like to really believe in love again.

“A little,” I admitted. “I didn’t have much time to think too deeply about it, considering. But I did think about it. Us.”

“That actually surprises me,” Lyle said, my heart falling a bit at that. “I kinda always felt like you were playing with me. That you didn’t take it seriously. Especially after you hooked up with Raoul in Berlin last year.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to bang someone whose name is Raoul?” I asked.

“Shut up.” But Lyle did laugh at that. “I’m trying to be serious. I’m just saying that you didn’t seem to do relationships before. You had a lot of friends-with-benefits, but few actual boyfriends. And I’m sure what happened at the Willows didn’t leave you wanting to commit to new things.”

I considered that. I never thought about it before. Chris, I eventually learned, had cheated on me once I started college. Even then, the jealousy he felt about me being around college guys all day while he was still stuck in high school—despite said college guys being older than me in a way that anything would have quite illegal—was too much for us to overcome. The guy I dated after Chris was during my senior year of undergrad, and he strung me along like the kid I still was.

It took me almost a year and a half before I figured it out.

From there, all of my flings had mostly been guys I befriended who occasionally wanted a lay. That had been a lot easier than failing my way through situation-ships and one-night stands; though the previous few months have shown me not to underestimate the power of the latter.

Maybe Lyle was right. Maybe I did have an aversion to commitment. Maybe that’s what made the Willows so terrifying. Maybe that’s why despite being free, I still had that handkerchief Evan gave me.

“So even if I pretended that you had a point,” I said, because I would never let Lyle believe he was actually right about something, “what are you trying to say? I’m too afraid to commit to a house?”

Lyle looked at me, and frowned at the look on my face.

“You’re turning this into a challenge,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” I said, shaking my head. “Why? Are you challenging me to get a house?”

“No. I’m just saying that you might have an aversion to making that type of commitment. Apartments are easier to bail on if you don’t like them.”

“Hmm. Sounds like you’re saying I don’t have the balls to get a house.”

“I mean, you don’t, you know, actually, like, have balls. So…”

“Wow. That’s offensive, and definitely a challenge.”

“It’s not—”

“So, good and bad news,” Kathy said, walking back inside as she hung up her phone. “The property manager was not at all okay with the idea of renovating; however, he did say there is another—”

“I’m so sorry, Kathy,” I said, turning to meet her. “I’ve actually changed my mind. I do want to keep looking for a house. Are there any smaller ones you can show me? Maybe a ranch-style?”

Kathy looked at my smile, obviously exasperated. I pretended I didn’t see Lyle shaking his head next to me. Kathy took a deep breath in and out before nodding.

“Okay,” she said, sorting through her phone. “I have a few that I can show you after tomorrow, but I do have one we can look at today.”

She walked over, showing me the listing on her website. It was a cute white ranch with a huge garage. And a decent amount of land. She swiped through the pictures, showing me the brief overview of the large, modern kitchen, the spacious living room, the perfect master bedroom, and the neat backyard patio. Perfect for cookouts.

“Now,” Kathy said, pointing at the picture of the living room, “the floors are wood, but can easily be redone with tiles or carpet. Whichever you prefer. And the current owner said that if whoever buys it wants work done, to reach out to her brother. He owns a renovation company, and buys and flips houses. She said she’ll get him to give you whatever you want at half off.”

“That’s a good deal,” Lyle said, looking over my shoulder.

“Not if his work is shoddy,” I muttered.

Kathy smiled. “No worries there,” she said as her fingers jumped on the screen, pulling up some more pictures. “Here’s his site. He’s actually very talented. Look at some before-and-afters.”

I did look, and was rather impressed. He definitely wasn’t shoddy. Though, admittedly, I was more impressed by his profile picture on the homepage. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans with a workman’s belt around his trim waist, his muscular arms crossed leaning against the main menu advertising Carson’s Kitchens and Tiles. I wasn’t typically into white guys, but his shaggy dark hair in his pretty blue eyes made me want to make an exception.

“Let’s check it out,” I said, smiling up at Kathy. “I have a good feeling about this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that when I read that last line, I laughed and thought "God, he's such a whore!" 
> 
> I remember someone I used to follow saying they really liked writing slutty characters, and I can see why: Andres is really fun like this! 
> 
> Tomorrow starts my first FULL week of working from home. Last week was CRAZY. I spent most of Wednesday having issues, thought I had it by Thursday until around lunch the tech guy at my job saw the problem. After that, I've been good. It's crazy because we're so slow, and since I can't do the administrative stuff, I'm just sitting around taking phone calls. I'm struggling a bit with getting into a solid morning routine and whatnot, but it's fine. It's an adjustment, so I'm trying to give myself time and be patient with myself. 
> 
> Because of it all, I didn't really do any writing. I'm hoping to change that this week and knock a few more chapters out. I want to do a bomb soon, maybe the weekend of my birthday next month. But I think I also have a general goal of completing this story by the end of June. Doubt it's going to happen, but a deadline would be nice. We'll see. The last story, I wanted to finish it before June, and it took until August lol. Still, I'm going to start speeding some stuff up because I don't know how much bs fluff I can write before I jump into real plot stuff. I don't want to move it TOO quickly, but I think I've been going reaaaaaaal slow, especially with the Willows stuff. I really wanted to get a solid view of what the Willows is like, buuuuut, I think I need to stop bullshitting and moving the plot along. The points I wanted to make are at the major plot points, so I'm not doing myself any favors like this. 
> 
> We'll see!!!!
> 
> Oh, does anyone watching She Ra? Holy hell this last season? I SPENT LITERALLY 40+ MINUTES CRYING. Literally. The entire last episode I was in tears. And I was already crying from stuff in the second-to-last episode. I was just crying. Crying and crying and crying. It was so good. It's literally the perfect show ever. Period. The entire time I was watching the season, I just kept thinking "this is sooo good!" Like the writing? The direction? The animation? The new character designs?????? AHHHHHH! She Ra was everything Legend of Korra, Voltron, and Steven Universe wishes it could be! Lol. 
> 
> Ngl, Catra's story really has me in my feels. It brought up some feelings and issues I thought I was over but apparently not! Haha. I need a therapist for real. Anyway, it's so good, so if you're looking for something to watch right now, I suggest that. Especially if you're looking for that, muah, good lesbian content. A++++++++ 1000000000000000000% would recommend. Awesome. Wonderful. Fantastic. Amazing. I want to write a story that well. Gosh, so good. I can't get over how well written it was. Gosh. Perfection. Golly gosh. 
> 
> Okay, enough of that. Thank you for reading, as always, and please leave comments. Either about She Ra or the story, whichever moves you. I happily accept both lol. See you all next week!


	22. Chapter 22

After our morning devotionals, Evan and I headed outside to the main table for breakfast. It was pretty full, mostly with men in suits or workpants, getting ready to leave the compound for work, as well as their wives. Four women had a bunch of young children, not yet old enough for school, in one corner. They flitted around them, making sure they were all eating. I smiled watching the sleepier children struggle to keep their heads up.

Halfway through, Serenity and Mike came out, Mike also wearing a fitted suit. That wasn’t too surprising; she didn’t seem like the manual labor type. If only because she was more skinny than she was fit. She looked more at home in that pinstriped suit than she would have in worker jeans.

Mike led Serenity to sit a way down the table, and Serenity just gave me a tense smile. We were too far away to talk to each other. I wondered if that was on purpose.

Evan had explained that most people with 9-5 jobs and the students were eating now; most of the early morning workers would have already left. Declan would have been one of them, meaning Jacob would have already eaten. I wasn’t sure if Jacob was at the house alone then, but that didn’t seem like a good idea if he was.

I noticed a small group of boys around Jacob’s age wearing khaki pants and button up shirts. One looked at his watch and said something to his friends, and they all stood up grabbing backpacks and messenger bags. College students. So boys were allowed to attend college off the compound here. Interesting.

“Hi!” a voice said next to me as I finished my muffins.

I turned, surprised to see Shiloh sitting there. A man sat on Evan’s other side with a pointed look at Shiloh. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome with a stylish fade and wired-rimmed glasses. He was also in a suit.

“Oh,” Shiloh said to him, as if forgetting something. “Is it okay if I sit next to Andres? Please?”

The man didn’t seem impressed, but he gave one nod anyway. Shiloh smiled and settled in, grabbing a plate from a nearby stack on the table and immediately loading up on eggs.

“Your husband?” I asked conversationally, looking at the man.

“Yes! That’s my Josh. Isn’t he dreamy?”

I nodded, watching the man talk to Evan. They both looked a bit serious, occasionally glancing at the six men sitting at the end of the table, closest to the stage. It took me a second to realize they were the council members.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” Shiloh asked, frowning at the sausage he put on his plate.

“Fun?” I asked.

“In bed. Josh had to make me eat during our honeymoon because I just wanted to spend it underneath him.”

I tried not to cringe at that, shaking my head.

“It was okay,” I said.

“Okay? Oh boy. That’s not good. Was he too big?”

I frowned at Shiloh. Did he really expect me to answer that? We were both quiet as he ate a bit. He looked at me expectantly, as if surprised I wasn’t answering.

“I was there, you know,” he said casually, grabbing some muffins from the serving plate in front of me. “He’s bigger than most men.”

I swallowed, finishing my own breakfast and turning to Shiloh so Evan couldn’t hear me.

“Is your husband—Josh. Is he that big?”

Shiloh looked at me as he bit into a muffin, his eyes round and wide as he nodded at me.

“And you like it?”

Shiloh smiled, nodding again. Of course, he did.

“It was hard at first,” he admitted before shrugging. “But it does get easier. And when I’m good, he even lets me come.”

I remembered the conversation Evan and I had the day before.

“But that’s not the point, right?”

Shiloh nodded again. “Yeah, but we can have more fun with it right now because—”

Shiloh cut himself off, his eyes looking down at his plate. His fork was on the table next to him, but Shiloh didn’t move to pick it up. He just looked at the food as if it was a tiger looking to maul him apart. I looked at Shiloh again; I hadn’t noticed it before since he was wearing the ill-fitting Willows white pants and long tunic, but he was pretty skinny.

It wasn’t my problem. Shiloh was nice and all, but asking would get me invested. It would mean I cared. It would mean I would have to care.

“Because?” I asked anyway.

Fuck me.

“Oh,” Shiloh said, looking a little surprised that I asked. “It’s just that I’m still trying to get my weight up is all.”

I nodded. I remember reading an article a few years ago on the prevalence of eating disorders with surrogates in the Nation. The researcher was responding to an article stating it was some genetic marker that made us more likely to develop it. But when the researcher compared it to data across the globe, she found that intersex people were not more likely to have eating disorders in socially liberal countries.

“You have fun even if he doesn’t let you come?” I asked.

Shiloh gave me a small smile. “Yeah.”

I shook my head. “That’s fucking weird.”

Shiloh laughed, easily seeing I was half joking, and turned back to his food. It was long after that Evan and Josh started moving, looking like they were going to leave.

“Shiloh,” Josh said, standing up and walking over to us. “Since you and Andres are getting along so well, why don’t you show him around the compound? Devotionals at eleven and then I’ll see you at lunch.”

Shiloh smiled up at him, nodding like a puppy. “Okay! Have a good day at work!”

Josh, finally, smiled at Shiloh, leaning down to give him a kiss on the top of his head. Evan looked at me, and I hoped he wasn’t expecting to wish him a good day. I watched him cautiously as he leaned forward to kiss me. When we broke, his voice was low.

“Shiloh is actually a very good role model, so you should learn a lot from him. That’s what you wanted, right? To learn?”

I blinked at him. Twice. Then I remembered myself and nodded.

“Good,” Evan said, kissing me again. “I won’t be able to make it back for lunch, so I’ll see you at home before dinner.”

I nodded. Evan, satisfied, stood up and followed Josh as they headed towards the lot. They paused for a few seconds to say hi to the council before continuing on their way. I felt a little relieved now that Evan was gone, but a bit lost.

Shiloh finished up his food, looking after them for a moment.

“I hate that he has to leave,” he said wistfully. “He should spend every day here with me.”

“What does he do?” I asked.

Shiloh gave me a strange look. “Like, for work?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

I paused. “You don’t know what your husband does for a living?”

Shiloh frowned. “Why would I? It’s not my place to know.”

Right. I let out a sigh. I had wondered if Evan and Josh worked similar jobs. I was hoping to figure out what he was so reluctant to tell me. Guess not.

Shiloh was standing up and waving at two young women with babies in their arms.

“First thing’s first,” he said, pointing at the back end of the table.

The twins, Cara and Tara, were there with a long cart. On top of the cart was a plethora of small glass cups. They were talking to a stocky boy with a buzz cut, laughing. I followed Shiloh to them, preparing for the worst.

Because this place was the fucking worst.

“Morning Shiloh,” one of the twins said, holding a tablet. She immediately turned to it, tapping through it.

“Morning, Cara,” Shiloh said, smiling at her before glancing at Tara still talking to the boy.

Cara glanced up at Tara, shaking her head.

“For Heaven’s sake, Tara,” she gently scolded. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“My bad,” the boy said, smiling at Tara. “I should be headin’ back to the farm anyway. I’ll see you at lunch, Tara.”

“Okay,” Tara said with a breathless smile. It was actually cute. She turned back to Cara, ignoring her sister’s smirk. “What am I getting now?”

“Prenatals,” Cara said. “And vitamin D, and the Marplan.”

“And the what?” Shiloh ask, all humor leaving his face.

“Marplan. It’s replacing the Lexapro.”

“I can’t do MAOIs.”

I glanced at Shiloh from the corner of my eyes. I was surprised Shiloh knew what medication he was on. Even more interesting that he seemed familiar with it. I wouldn’t have recognized Marplan as a MAOI without looking it up, and I only immediately knew about Lexapro because my father took it.

“It was signed off on yesterday,” Cara said, looking down at the tablet. She showed the screen to Shiloh.

Shiloh frowned at the screen. “Yes, by my husband. He’s not—”

Shiloh stopped, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, his face was calm and happy again.

“Sorry,” he said. “It just throws me off when he changes them without telling me.”

“No biggie,” Cara said, smiling at him. Tara moved to open the cabinet under the cart, sorting through whatever was there. “My dad said I have to stop taking my Valiums so it’s out of my system before I get married.”

Tara stood up, handing Shiloh a cup while Cara tapped away at the tablet. I watched Shiloh pause to count the pills before tossing them all back in his mouth, swallowing them dry. I was so distracted by the insanity of him swallowing them without water that I didn’t notice Tara holding out a cup for me.

“What’s in here?” I asked, counting the same number of pills as the cup at breakfast yesterday.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tara said with a laugh.

Cara shrugged. “It’s just basic vitamins. It takes a minute until we can have your fertility accessed and your blood drawn for us to give you anything special.”

I felt my heart skip. I’d forgotten that. Women and surrogates in the Nation had to have their fertility accessed, and be given a number of children they were expected to have. I took a few steady breaths, accepting the additional glass filled with water.

“How long do I have to wait for that?” I asked before taking them.

Tara glanced at Cara. “Because you’re a rescue from the city, about two or three months? Unless you get pregnant before then.”

“They don’t like taking rescues off the compound earlier than necessary,” Cara explained. “We had incidents with runaways before.”

They wanted time to break us in. I thought about it as I handed Tara back the glasses. I wasn’t going to get pregnant in three months. That did give me some time to think. Time to plan. Three months to escape? I could figure it out.

~*~

“So, here’s where I work!”

I’d spent the last two and a half hours walking through the compound. It was bigger than I initially thought, spread out along what had to be hundreds of acres. To the left of the large table was a huge array of houses. They mostly faced the direction of the table, but the variety of the houses was strange. I was used to narrow streets with houses or buildings lining the sidewalks in a specific order.

The houses in the Willows looked more like someone bought up a bunch of acres and just built random houses in one corner of the property. In fact, that was obviously exactly what happened. There were a few in progress houses, the sizes and styles differing. Most were the standard two-story modern homes with at least five bedrooms to accommodate multiple families. There were a few ranch-style homes, and a few cottage-looking houses.

Shiloh explained those were mostly for elderly residents whose children had left the nest and thus didn’t need to take up the bigger houses anymore.

This went on for a while. Shiloh showed me his house: a tall and long mini-mansion. He didn’t take me inside, but told me how he shared the house with three other couples. There were ten bedrooms, four bathrooms—as well as two half bathrooms—and a basement that not all houses had.

From there, we walked past the intake center, a rather large church building, and a long, white building that Shiloh explained was where the children whose fathers worked off the compound often spent their days. When he asked if I wanted to go inside to meet the kids, I politely declined.

From there, we passed rows and rows of farmland, Shiloh pointing out the crops they were currently growing. There were quite a few men and women out and about, tending the farm. Shiloh waved at everyone, introducing me to as many who were willing to stop. That was mostly the women and surrogates working; the men were too focused on looking manly with their big machines to stop and talk.

Everyone was nice, which was a bit of a relief. And happy. I had thought the twins were just young and Shiloh a bit of an idiot, but I was quickly starting to see that happiness was a beloved trait at the Willows. Everyone talked as if I were a gleeful and willing participant, explaining to me their process for growing foods, what they were willing to sell at local markets, and how they hoped Evan would consider letting me work with them on the farm.

I asked Shiloh about that when we left them to walk by the large, red farmhouse, but he brushed it off saying he didn’t think Evan would like me working on the farm. Missing my point, we ran into some young boys tending to cows; one shaving the wool off some sheep. The boy Tara had been talking to was with them, visibly older and in charge of making sure the younger ones did their chores well. He introduced himself as Emmanuel, and went out of his way to remark what a beautiful bride I had been the other night.

I didn’t like him and I hoped Tara didn’t get stuck with him.

After that, we rounded the property to the other side of the table, where there were lines of long white buildings that almost looked like offices or shops from outside. Shiloh pointed to each one, noting the barbershop for the men, Kian’s beauty shop—which was empty when Shiloh tried to go inside—a tailor, and, most importantly, an incredibly long brick building that Shiloh happily proclaimed was where he worked.

“What is it?” I asked, following Shiloh as he went to the side of the building.

“The kitchens,” Shiloh said, finding a door.

“You cook?” I asked. That didn’t seem to fit Shiloh.

“Hm. I work here,” he repeated.

Ah. So he helped; didn’t do any of the actual cooking. That made more sense.

The inside was hot, filled with women and surrogates doing small tasks. There were three women sitting in one corner, peeling potatoes while two young surrogates were plucking the feathers off chickens. The walls were lined with sinks, ovens, and stoves in stations that resembled a restaurant kitchen. If it was the biggest restaurant in the world. In the center of it all was a large table where a woman wearing a blood splattered apron stood, looking down at something on the table, surrounded by at least twenty women and surrogates following her gaze.

When we walked in, her face lifted, the lines under her eyes looking well deserved from the hard look in them. Her long hair was down her back in a black braid, her body tall and strong looking. She looked between Shiloh and I before settling her disapproving look at Shiloh.

“You’re not due here until after lunch,” she said to him, her voice curt. “What do you want, Shiloh?”

“I was just showing Andres around,” Shiloh said, reaching for my arm and pulling me next to him. “He’s new!”

“We know,” the woman said, rather unkindly. “We were all at the wedding.”

I swallowed. Alrighty then. Shiloh just shook his head, turning to me.

“Andres, this is Mrs. Lynn. Her husband is Deacon Brown.”

Mrs. Lynn let out a hard sigh before turning her hard gaze to me. I froze, feeling like a soldier waiting orders. She grabbed a large chef knife sitting on the table and pointed it at me.

“You know how to cook?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted.

She didn’t look happy at that. “You never help your mother in the kitchen?”

“My dad cooks. And no, I don’t.”

“You know how to grill?”

“No.”

“Bake?”

“Not from scratch.”

“You know how to cut meat? Chop up vegetables? Peel potatoes?”

I didn’t have experience with any of that stuff. But…

“Is that hard?” I asked.

The girl closest to Mrs. Lynn giggled, barely containing it behind her hand. Mrs. Lynn glanced at her before switching her grip on the knife. She jabbed the tip dramatically into the wood table, silencing any giggles.

She glanced at Shiloh before pointing at me.

“You tell Evan that he’s to stay out of my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shiloh said, rather obediently.

“Get out. I don’t want to see your face again until _after_ lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shiloh said, turning and dragging me by the arm out the door we came.

“Is she going to poison my food now?” I asked as we walked outside.

Shiloh laughed. “Oh, no. Of course not. She just doesn’t like people she finds useless in the kitchen. You’ll have to impress her some other way.”

“Impress?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “Does it matter?”

Shiloh didn’t answer right away, walking back to the table. I was quickly learning the large table was more than just a place for people to eat. There were a few people sitting around, talking and laughing. A small group of teenage girls were praying towards the center of the table while a group of older surrogates and women played cards. The table was also a communal place where everyone could gather and just hang out.

Shiloh sat, the table’s bench between his legs so he could face me. He hesitated again, looking around before talking.

“You might want to care about it, actually,” he said. “Like I said; Mrs. Lynn is Deacon Brown’s wife.”

“So?” I asked. “I don’t even know who Deacon Brown is.”

“The deacons are the men who make up the council. The council decides mostly everything that happens here. No one can get married without their permission. They have to approve who is allowed to work off th*e compound, and what your job assignment on the compound is. They can make your life hell if they want to.”

I paused. That was interesting. And here I thought Father and Mother were the end-all-be-all at the Willows. Did Mother overplay her hand with me the other day?

“So keep the wives happy and I get to be happy?” I concluded.

“Yes, and no,” Shiloh said, shifting in his seat. “The council will likely approve anything as long as Evan wants it. They’re very fond of him, considering. It’s more so the wives not liking you could impact whether or not Mother likes you.”

“She already doesn’t like me,” I said, my tone flat.

Shiloh frowned. “Then you really need to make sure the deacons’ wives don’t come to hate you too.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “Do the wives have power here?”

Shiloh nodded, his face serious. “They make up Mother’s inner circle. A lot of what goes into running the compounds day to day is on us. The wives: the women and surrogates. We watch the children, we prepare all the meals, we do the cleaning, tending to the farm; we’re the ones who keep this ship afloat so the men can focus on steering.”

I noted how happy Shiloh looked regurgitating all of that. Like it was truly something to be proud of. Sounded to me like the Willows survived off of slave labor that it hid under the guise of women’s—and surrogates’—work.

But then the meaning of Shiloh’s words started to sink in. If the wives were in charge of running the compound while the men were away, that likely meant that Mother was in charge of overseeing all of that.

“So the inner circle wives help Mother run this place,” I finished aloud.

Shiloh nodded.

“So if I piss them off, they’ll make my life miserable here. Even without Mother telling them to.”

“Yeah,” Shiloh agreed. “The good thing is that there’s a lot of politics involved in this. And the women pride themselves on not behaving like schoolgirls. Even if Mother doesn’t like you, if the other wives are fine with you, you’ll be fine. You shouldn’t have to deal with Mother too much. Well,” Shiloh added, obviously seeing the look on my face at that remark. “No more than you’ll have to on account of being Evan’s wife.”

“Get the wives on my side,” I said, nodding. “Great. Should be easy enough.”

“Some more than others,” a voice said behind me.

My body went cold as I turned to meet Mother’s icy smile. She was standing next to another woman her age, petite and very round-faced with tanned skin and curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had a perfectly polite smile on her face; if I knew any better, I’d think she was happy to see me.

“Good morning, Andres,” Mother said to me, rolling the r in my name horribly. She glanced at Shiloh. “Shiloh.”

“Good morning, Mother,” Shiloh said eagerly.

“Good morning,” I followed, rather belatedly.

“I ran into Evan this morning on his way out,” she said. “He said he wouldn’t be able to make it back for lunch today.”

“He told me that,” I said. After I said it, I wasn’t sure why I did. The woman next to her let out a chuckle. “He said he’ll be back for dinner, though.”

“Of course. He’d never miss that,” Mother said. “Oh, by the way, this is my friend, Ruthanne Dunn.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ruthanne,” I said to her.

“Nice to meet you too, Andres,” she said, the r more natural on her tongue. “You’re much prettier up close. Granted, I thought you looked very pretty the other night even though I was further away.”

I didn’t like being called pretty. Twice. But I smiled at the compliment it was, I hoped, intended to be.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And how are you liking the Willows so far?” she asked.

I smiled at her trying to come up with a convincing lie.

“Shiloh was just showing me around,” I answered. “I didn’t get to see anything yesterday, so I’m still just taking it all in.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Ruthanne said, nodding. “I know that the way you came here was rather, well, jarring, so this is all going to require some adjusting.”

Mrs. Ruthanne moved then, leaning forward until our faces were close. She watched me with her dark eyes for a minute before continuing.

“Now, Andres,” she said, her voice low and pleasant despite the dark tone in it. “Now, Andres, I want you to understand that we all want you to do well here. Okay? So if you’re struggling at all, you _must_ reach out for help. Yes, even me or any of the other wives here. Okay? We all want to help get you adjusted to this, and we can’t if you refuse to be honest with us.

“And that’s a big thing here, okay? Honesty. We don’t keep secrets here. We don’t hide things. Like with Shiloh’s eating disorder. Everyone here knows he struggles with it, and so we all do our part to help him. But he has to be honest with us. _You_ have to be honest with us. This system only works if we are all _honest_. Okay?”

I blinked at her for a moment, everything she said a lot to take in. I eventually nodded, acquiescing. She smiled, straightening up.

“Wonderful,” she said. She turned to Mother. “Rumi, I don’t know what your problem is with him. He seems quite lovely. I’d love to have my son marry a surrogate like him.”

Mother laughed, not at all embarrassed by Mrs. Ruthanne’s words.

“It’s not like I hate him,” she said. “I just worry if he’s more work than my son is aware of.”

“Oh, Evan is a smart boy. I think he’ll handle Andres here well.” Mrs. Ruthanne turned to me, her smile just as warm as before. “Andres, since Evan won’t make it to lunch, sit with us. The other wives would love to meet Evan’s new bride, and that way you won’t be the third wheel to Shiloh and Josh.”

It wasn’t a question, so I just nodded. “Okay.” Then, belated, I added, “Thank you.”

“Very good boy,” Mrs. Ruthanne mused. “We’ll see you at lunch then boys.”

We nodded, watching as Mother and Mrs. Ruthanne linked arms. They headed towards the houses instead of the church where a few of the women and surrogates were starting to move towards.

“What the hell just happened?” I muttered to myself.

“Mrs. Ruthanne is like a pro at grilling people,” Shiloh said, smiling at me. “I’m impressed. Most people get tripped up their first time dealing with her.”

“Are they all like that?” I asked.

“Not at all. But if you impressed her, it’s a good sign. She’s closest to Mother, and a lot of the other wives defer to her more than they do Mother. At times. You’re on the right track getting her to like you! Congrats.”

I watched Mrs. Ruthanne and Mother huddle together and talk as they approached the houses. For some reason, I didn’t feel like I did anything worth congratulating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was forgot about what happened in the second part of this chapter, so I thought it wasn't beefy and I was like "oh, this is a horrible chapter to have people waiting a week for and then another week for what happens next," lol. But it's actually pretty heavy, so that's fine, I guess. 
> 
> I really adore Shiloh. He's so fun to write. He reminds me a lot of Rudy from the other story, only not quite as tragic. I promise, Shiloh's ending will be a happy one. Just remember that what is happy for him might not be happy to us. Muahahaha. 
> 
> Annnywho, I like Mrs. Ruthanne. I also really like names that are like double names? Like you know in To All The Boys I've Loved Before, how the main character is Lara Jean? You see it more with southern names, so whenever I do it, I tend to imagine the characters having thick, southern accents. So imagine Ruthanne with a heavy, Louisiana accent! Haha. 
> 
> I have this thing with siblings, especially twins, that I HATE where parents make their names similar. OR if they have their names start with the same letter. My one aunt has four kids and all of their names start with an A. I think that's the biggest gag of this story is that I do things I hate in real life. Like with the Faust A-name thing lol. There's this writer here on A03 who has this super intense fantasy story going on; it's like 20 different stories in the same world and all the stories intersect and it's so cool. It's by AntagonizedPenguin, and it's so impressive. But, like, she has family members, typically, have names that start with the same letters. So there's a character whose name is Edwin and his brother's name is Erik. I would SCREAM if I saw that in real life, but I like it in stories apparently. I guess because it's so corny and cliched, that it works only in fiction. 
> 
> I worked at a daycare as a teenager (god, I love kids) and this woman had twin boys that she named Dwayne and Dwoyne. I wanted to fight this woman for real. Just straight scrap. But she was grown and also a lot taller than me, so it wouldn't happen. But why the fuck would you do that? 
> 
> With Tara and Cara, whenever I write them, I think of in Hairspray during The Nicest Kids in Town song when the kids are all saying names. And the twins are like "Noreen. Doreen." And idk, but I LOVE that. I like both of those names (if I hated my future children, I would totally name them that. They're so pretty but old fashioned). When I think of Tara and Cara, they're like a Black version of them. That's also why they're so peppy. 
> 
> Last week was weird. I got no writing done... I'll do better this week. 
> 
> So halfway through my day on Friday, I get a call from someone who works at my company who works remotely (she does on a regular; before COVID) and while I was looking something up for her, she was like "you excited for the three day weekend?" And I was like "whut?" But I played it off like "haha, yeah always." Then as soon as I got off the phone, I googled when Memorial Day was, because I realized that was the only thing happening soon was that and sure enough, it's Monday/tomorrow! I got so excited and texted my boss and coworker (my other coworker who is working remotely and I have a group chat with our boss in case we need help working from home) and I'm like "Omg, we're off on Monday? Best news ever!" and they're laughing at me because I'm so goofy. 
> 
> Why would I remember Memorial Day in the midst of this Corona nonsense? I forgot my birthday is coming up in a few weeks! Everything is off with this shit! 
> 
> Anyway, in celebration of me being off work (fuck Memorial Day except that it gives me a day off work lol), I'm going to upload another chapter tomorrow. Some fun people make a reappearance and I think you all will enjoy it! 
> 
> Please leave comments! You know I love them! See you all tomorrow!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this chapter is two of what was posted this week. Please make sure you read the previous chapter before this one!

“It’s just a lot of plug and play,” Tish said, showing me the registration form on the screen. “You just ask the questions here until the end. Now, and you only get this because _I’m_ training you, it’s important to be very welcoming. Most of our immigrants are from the Nation, so they’re very shy and secretive and worried about why you’re asking these questions.”

I skimmed through the questions, seeing what she meant. Some of them were very loaded questions in the Nation. I took the day off from the lab to hang out at the IRRC. I just needed a change of pace after spending all weekend looking at places.

I hadn’t been useful in the lab on Monday, so I took a personal day. Not that Dr. Moore cared; I was pretty sure she didn’t even track our vacation days. And I was still stuck at the research level of the assignment I was currently working on. I wouldn’t be missed.

I had wandered to the IRRC on a whim, half wondering if maybe I would run into Lucca. Who was, according to Tish, somewhere in the building. She just wasn’t sure where and didn’t seem interested in looking for him. There was something odd about the fact that no one who worked at the IRRC seemed to care what anyone else was doing. I wondered how things got done like that.

I asked Tish about volunteering a few hours a week at the IRRC. She was overjoyed, immediately walking me to a hallway with a series of small offices. Each one just said “Registration” on the doors. When Tish waved me into one, I saw a standard set up with a large desk and computer on top. There were three comfortable chairs on the other side—for couples or runaways with children, she said—and the walls were lined with pockets of pamphlets and little motivational posters.

I had dragged one of the chairs over behind Tish as she booted up the computer and showed me where to access the registration forms. It all seemed easy enough. Still, she said she wanted me to sit in on a few before I was left alone.

“Why all these questions about if they have children with them?” I asked. “Like, this one says ‘are all of your children in the city with you?’ Is there a difference?”

Tish nodded soberly. “A lot of people don’t get to bring all of their children with them. Most don’t manage to bring any of them; particularly the intersex men. It’s important for us to know how many times they’ve given birth for medical and legal reasons.”

“Legal?”

“The Nation, unfortunately, gets weekly reports of our new registered immigrants. They run it by their missing persons list, and if they get hits, they notify their families. A lot of families petition to have their missing wives and surrogates returned. We want to make sure we have all the information necessary to fight for them.”

I swallowed, nodding. Escaping the city was hard enough: I knew that firsthand. And I also knew how difficult and frustrating it was to have the people you ran from try to force you back. I hadn’t even been in the Nation for six months before I got away. I couldn’t imagine living your entire life there and finally getting free only to have to fear going back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a situation where the person was forced back,” Tish said after looking at my face. “I think the closest might have been Lucca, honestly. But he’s still here.”

“It’s just gotta be stressful,” I said, shrugging. “Even if there’s that small chance…”

Tish nodded, leaning back in her chair, and looking at the computer screen.

“You know, we have a group for women and intersex immigrants from the Nation,” she offered. “Maybe you should sit in on one of their meetings. There’s one tomorrow evening.”

I smiled politely at her. “Thanks, but that seems wrong. I’m not an immigrant.”

Tish chuckled and gave me a shrug. “Sure, but I think if anyone in this city is going to understand what you’ve been through, it’ll be them. I mean, you and Lucca had a heart-to-heart, right?”

I paused. She wasn’t wrong. Still, I felt weird using resources for people who were in worse-off positions than me. I was well-educated, had a strong support group, and access to many other resources to help me sort through everything that came out of being at the Willows. This group was likely the closest thing to therapy any of these people would get.

“Just come,” Tish said, her voice gentle. “Check it out at least. If you still feel icky about it, then you don’t have to come back. We’ll ban you indefinitely.”

I smiled. “Okay. Fine.”

“Awesome,” Tish said with a smile, moving to shut down the computer. “What time do you get off work? If you come beforehand, I can have you sit in with a few registrations.”

“I can get off,” I said, following her cue and standing. “Thanks for letting me kill some time here.”

“No probs,” Tish said, getting up and leading us out of the room. She was wearing green chino pants with a flowy, floral top and pretty wedged sandals. She was like something out of a print ad. “I honestly volunteer just to have something to do during the day.”

“You don’t just sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked,” she said, throwing a knowing smirk at me. “Besides, I do my best work when I’m delirious with sleep deprivation.”

I smiled, though I couldn’t relate. I forced myself out of the house after calling out just so I wouldn’t spend the day sleeping. I slept fine during the night—surprisingly—but I still always felt tired. My therapist gave a few explanations for it, the top possibility being depression. But I didn’t feel depressed; just tired.

“Oh, I thought you left.”

I looked up as we approached the main lobby, Lucca dropping a stack of files on top of the desk there. There was a tall, young looking man behind him with a curly hi-top fade and a suit that fit him well.

“Nope,” Tish said, bouncing as she settled in front of the desk. “I was showing Andres around. He’s going to start volunteering here.”

“Really?” Lucca said, smiling at me. “That’s great. We can always use the help.”

Tish giggled, turning to me. “He says that, but we actually have, like, a shitload of volunteers.”

“I would have no way of knowing that since _someone_ doesn’t keep track of how many people we have volunteering.”

“Okay,” Tish said, pretending to lean in as if whispering. Her words were loud enough for everyone to hear, though. “He says that like it’s _my_ job or something.”

“Tish,” the man behind Lucca said, frowning at her. “Aren’t you one of the administrative assistants?”

“Yeah. And?”

“That’s literally your job to keep track of that.”

“Oh my god,” Tish said, looking genuinely shocked. “It is?”

The man looked at her like she was crazy, and I had to try not to laugh. So this place _was_ a disorganized mess. Got it. I was sure I wasn’t going to regret my choice to volunteer here at all.

“Lucca,” the man said, turning to him. “Why does no one here seem to know what they’re supposed to be doing?”

“Tish is just joking,” Lucca said, waving his hand as if to brush him off. He turned back to me. “Andres, this is actually the director of the IRRC, Alexei. He runs this place on paper while I actually run it.”

“Cute,” Alexei said with a frown at Lucca before turning to me. He paused as he reached out to shake my hand. “Have we met before?”

“Nope,” I said. Alexei was cute and I would have remembered him.

“Strange,” he said, as if thinking. “You look so familiar.”

“Wait,” Tish said, as if just getting struck with an idea. “Andres. Oh my god, you’re not a Faust, are you?”

I frowned, confused. “No. Why would you think that?”

“The A-name,” she said. “Andres, Alexei; I thought maybe you were distant cousins and that’s why you looked familiar to him.”

“You’re a Faust?” I asked Alexei. I’d gone my entire life without running into a single Faust, and suddenly I ended up meeting two in as many weeks. What were the chances?

“Yes,” Alexei said, moving to sit at the desk, hunching a bit in defeat. He then looked up at me, his face serious. “Don’t hold it against me. We’re not all as crazy as my cousin.”

“Al?” I asked. She was the only Faust with a rather, well, unpleasant reputation.

“Yeah,” Alexei said, nodding. “I’m sorry, crazy is offensive to women, right? She’s just very, um…”

“Controlling?” Tish supplied.

“Unbearable,” Lucca offered ruefully.

“Or maybe unreasonable?”

“Irrational is good.”

“That could be considered offensive. How about ill-tempered?”

“Petty?” 

“Irascible. Oh, that’s my word this week!”

“Is bitchy offensive?”

“Very. Oh, maybe malicious?”

“Vindictive.”

“Breviloquent? That was last week’s word.”

“Obnoxious,” Lucca finished, turning to Alexei. “Any of this in the ballpark?”

“I was just going to say aggressive,” Alexei said, looking like he was struggling to process all of that. “But yes, all that as well.”

“That was very impressive, by the way,” I said to Lucca and Tish. “Very vivid. I haven’t met her and yet I feel like I have a good grasp of her personality now.”

“Thank you,” Tish said as if I just gave her the biggest compliment of the world. “We’ll be here all week!”

We all laughed just as the door opened. A woman around my age walked in with princess locs just hitting her shoulders, wearing a long black dress with a black cardigan hanging off one shoulder. Her brown skin seemed to glow gold, her dark eyeliner emphasizing her dark eyes. Despite her gothic look, she walked in with a huge smile, holding the door open for two little kids to walk in.

“Look what I found!” she yelled at us.

Lucca moved first, rounding the table as the little boy of the duo ran towards us.

“Daddy!” he yelled, his backpack comically bouncing behind him as he rushed over.

Lucca kneeled down on one knee, catching the boy as he practically jumped into Lucca’s arms. Lucca was up in seconds, laughing as he swung the boy around, the two wearing the biggest smiles I’d ever seen.

“I’ve missed you!” Lucca told him, kissing his cheeks excessively while the boy giggled. “How was school? Did you learn a lot today?”

“Yeah!” the boy said. “Miss Francine showed me a new trick!”

“Oh?” Lucca moved, sitting the little boy on the edge of the desk, knocking the folders he’d placed there earlier into Alexei’s lap. Alexei looked chagrined, but obviously knew better than to say anything about it. “I want to see! Can you show me?”

The boy nodded, the woman who brought him walking up with the other child—a little girl—on her hip. Looking at both kids up close, I saw that they were wearing the yellow and grey uniforms for Agatha Prep: the most prestigious pre-school in the city. It was the preschool I went to as a child.

The little girl didn’t look anything like the woman holding her, except for maybe they had the same almond shaped eyes. But many people had almond shaped eyes. The girl was a light sable color, similar to Lucca’s, though her hair was a looser curl pattern. Her eyes were also a stunning blue, and her face blank of any real emotion as she watched all the smiling adults around her.

The little boy, however, looked like Lucca’s twin save for the lighter complexion and unruly, wavy dark hair. He had Lucca’s hazel eyes and button nose and goofy grin. Someone had tried to braid his hair back, but it’d become messy after a rough day of being a kid. Lucca immediately worked his hands in his son’s hair, undoing them.

“Daddy, stop!” the boy said, swatting Lucca’s hands away before he could start undoing the other braid. “I gotta show you!”

“Okay, show me first,” Lucca said, laughing.

Everyone watched as the little boy brought his hands together in front of him, his palms cupped as if he was holding something. He stared at it for a few minutes, and I saw the lines of magic gathering there. That surprised me. Magical children were nothing special in the city, but this boy couldn’t have been more than five. Especially if he wasn’t out of pre-school yet. I’d never seen a child control magic with that level of precision. That was something I wouldn’t expect until he was at least eight at the earliest.

“Okay,” the boy whispered to himself, nodding. 

He brought one hand into a fist, holding it out as if holding an umbrella. The other hand came on top of the fist, and I watched the magic go from being a small ball of pretty colors to taking the shape of flowers. I saw what he was doing immediately, a cute spell most beginners learned.

“Okay,” he repeated, his voice low as he counted. “And boom!”

On the boom, he lifted his top hand, revealing a bouquet of colorful tulips, lilies, and hydrangeas. Everyone exclaimed in surprise and excitement, clapping for him. The little boy smiled at his father, holding out the bouquet with pride.

I was shocked. Despite it being an easy spell, it was too precise for a child his age to do. Even with me being able to see magic, it took until I was about six or seven before I managed to understand how to replicate the spells I saw. 

“Amazing!” Lucca said, taking the bouquet and hugging his son. “Miss Francine taught you this?”

“She did it in front of the class,” the little girl on the woman’s hip said. “But we saw it and wanted to try it.”

“You can do it too, Yaya?” the woman asked her.

The girl nodded, holding out her hand. Her magic was faster than Lucca’s son, and even more precise. With only the one hand, she manipulated the energy until a bouquet of flowers bloomed from her hand. She handed them to the woman holding her, who looked shocked.

“Wow. You’re both amazing!”

“They’re both geniuses,” I said, in shock.

Lucca looked at me, surprised. “It’s just basic magic, right?”

“Yes, but they can’t be older than what? Five?”

“I’m this many!” the little boy announced, raising his hand with four fingers.

Tish laughed. “Angel, how many is that?”

“Um,” the little boy said, looking at his fingers and using them to count. “One, two, three, four. Four! It’s four!”

I was going to die, both from how cute that was, and at the fact that a four-year-old could use magic better than a child literally twice his age.

“Yeah, children his age don’t really do that,” I said.

“I wouldn’t expect less from Anya’s kid,” Alexei said with a shrug. “Both Anya and Al were pretty good with it from a young age.”

The woman holding the girl rolled her eyes. “Al ain’t and never was shit.”

“Ooooh!” Lucca’s son—Angel, Tish had called him—said, pointing at the woman.

“Don’t ‘ooooh” me kid. I’m an adult. I can say bad words.”

“Maybe don’t talk S-H-I-T about Aaliyah’s auntie in front of her,” Alexei suggested.

“I can spell shit,” the little girl—Aaliyah—said, stone faced.

I had to try not to laugh at that. Everything I was witnessing was the definition of wild.

“Of course, you can,” Alexei muttered.

“It’s cool,” the woman said, turning to Aaliyah. “Yaya, do you like your auntie, Al?”

Aaliyah shook her head.

“See,” the woman said with a nod. “She knows what’s up.”

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “Does everyone here hate Al Faust?”

Everyone paused, looking at each other.

“Wow,” the woman holding Aaliyah said. “We do. Like, enough to make a sitcom about it.”

“I don’t _hate_ Al,” Alexei said, looking like he was about to go into a long explanation defending himself.

“Shut up, Alexei,” the woman said, putting Aaliyah down on the ground. “No one was talking to you. Yaya, be good for Lucca until Mommy gets you. Okay?”

Aaliyah stared at the woman as if that was the stupidest thing she ever heard. I suddenly remembered watching episodes of this old show my mother loved. It was about this weird, gothic family that had a strange, sardonic daughter with pigtails whose name was a day of the week. Tuesday or something.

“Tish,” the woman said, straightening up and looking at her.

“Camilla,” Tish said, repeating the dramatic lilt.

“Guess who has off tonight?” the woman—Camilla—said with a big grin.

“You?” Tish guessed.

“Well, yeah. But so do you.”

“Hmm,” Tish’s smile faltered at that. “I can’t afford to take off every night like some people.”

“First of all, I am a very hard-working whore,” Camilla said, feigning offense. “And I paid for your night.”

“Oh wow,” Tish said. “I wonder what I should do with my night off. Maybe I’ll catch up on my reading.”

“Tish, no,” Camilla said with a frown, walking over and grabbing her hand. “We’re going out. On me. Let’s go.”

And like that, Camilla started to tug Tish to the door. Tish looked back at us, waving like a princess.

“Guess I have a date,” she said. “You don’t mind if I take off early, right Lucca? Bye!”

And they were gone. Lucca sighed.

“I actually really needed her for registrations this evening,” Lucca muttered. “But alright.”

“This,” Alexei said, frowning, “is exactly what I’m—”

Alexei’s words were cut off when Lucca’s watch starting beeping. He turned off the alarm, moving to help Angel off the table before taking both kids’s backpacks in his hand.

“Alright,” he said to the kids, ignoring Alexei entirely. “Time to go home so I’m not late for my virtual class. Say bye to Alexei.”

“Bye, Alexei,” Angel said, Aaliyah standing next to him as she waved goodbye.

“See ya around,” Lucca said to me, taking Aaliyah’s hand as Angel took off to the door. “Angel. Back here with me. You know better.”

Angel stopped at the door, holding it open for Lucca and Aaliyah, bouncing as they made their way down the stairs. Alexei let out a heavy sigh, putting the folders in his lap back on the desk. I almost felt bad for him. It was obvious that despite being the director, he didn’t command a lot of respect.

Unfortunately, it made it hard for me to want to give him any too.

He looked up at me, his face exhausted.

“You sure you want to start working here?” he asked.

And while I knew it was a joke, I couldn’t stop myself from giving him a half-assed shrug.

“I’m reconsidering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh-duh-duh duh -snap- -snap- 
> 
> I love the Addams family lol. So, I'm going to admit something: this chapter was 100% gratuitous. I just wanted to write Lucca with his darling baby Angel, and I wanted you all to see a bit of Aaliyah. I also wanted to show Camilla, since she'll be a major player in a later story, and why not show how useless Alexei is? Haha. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this. Lucca is a very attentive and doting parent. And Angel is a cute, energetic ball of energy. I hope no one is worried about Aaliyah; she's just got a fun personality lol. Ahhh, isn't Angel such a cutie? For those who read Before the Fall, I know you all had to love that. Maybe I'll write more on the life of Lucca raising his son. 
> 
> Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, Lucca and Anya do not live together, but they often help each other out with their kids. And Camilla is a family friend (yeah, we'll leave it at that, muahahahahaha) that they trust. She also is a prostitute with little to do during the day, so she can easily help Anya and Lucca out by picking up their kids from preschool. The kids are very well behaved when they know Lucca has to study or do his virtual classes, so he doesn't have to worry about them. Anya will likely pick up some food for them all to eat on her way to pick up Aaliyah, and then they'll chat until it's time to leave. 
> 
> Everyone who read Before the Fall might also not be surprised to know that Al Faust, the person who runs Faust City, is viewed by others to be a bitch. A boss ass bitch? Or just a bitch? Idk. Won't reveal that for years. It's fun to know that Lucca's first impression of her hasn't improved over the years. Interesting, non? 
> 
> Lucca doesn't get paid for all he does for the IRRC, but he works really hard anyway. He's very impressive. Staying busy helps keep him from falling into melancholy, honestly. He can't dwell on all he's been through if he's too busy to think lol. 
> 
> And Andres. This chapter was really to set up him spending more time at the IRRC when he's not an immigrant. Sort of wrote myself into a hole with that, but as Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton: the Musical sang, "I wrote my way out." Lol. Some interesting stuff is going to go down at the IRRC, so it's important to have a reason for him to bet here. 
> 
> And, honestly, I really wanted to establish what sort of helpful place the IRRC is. It's going to be an even bigger player in the last story I have in this series (albeit, not the next one, jsyk) so I wanted to spend some time with it in this capacity before the next story. Especially as it will barely show up (kinda) in the next story. And it's a very important organization in Faust City. 
> 
> Anywho, I'm going to go eat some carrot cake. Hope you guys had a nice day. And please, please, please leave comments! I need them for sustenance! See you all next Sunday!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andres has a startling revelation.

The woman sitting across from us was skinny. Insanely so. Her dress hung off her slender shoulders loosely, her collar bones pronounced and visible. She held her hands in lap, her fingers pale. I knew that if I reached out to touch them, they would be cold. She wore a light beanie on her head, straight blonde hair almost hitting her waist.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” she said, looking over her shoulder as if expecting someone to come in and drag her out.

“Registering?” Tish asked, giving the woman a gentle smile. “It’s the best thing you could do, honestly. Especially if you’re concerned about being followed.”

“If he finds out I’m here…” The woman didn’t finish her thought.

Tish leaned forward, keeping her voice pleasant. “How long have you been in the city?” she asked.

The woman shrugged, not looking at Tish. “A couple of days.”

“Really? How long ago did you run?”

The woman seemed to consider that. “About a week ago.”

“You’re not from the area then, right? With that Yankee accent?”

The woman gave a small chuckle, now looking up at Tish. “Massachusetts.” 

“That’s pretty far. It would take you a while to get here then.”

The woman nodded.

“In that case,” Tish continued, “they have to already suspect that you’re here. No one goes missing for that long without turning up here.”

“Or worse,” the woman added. “If I register, then my husband will know I’m here, right? Isn’t it better if he thinks I’m dead?”

“Do you have children?” Tish asked.

“Two sons,” the woman nodded. “I had to leave them behind.”

“Are you pregnant now?”

“Yes. How can you tell?”

Tish shrugged, giving the woman a toothy smile. “Just a hunch. And, in my opinion, more reason for the Nation to know where you are. If you’re ‘missing,’ especially while pregnant, there’s a host of things that could be happening. They could escalate this into a much bigger issue. And then if it’s found out through _other_ means that you’re here, it could make it harder for us to defend you if they demand you go back.”

The woman blinked at Tish, obviously confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Tish sighed, frowning. “Well, one of the things that the Nation really harps on when they petition for women to be extracted is whether the woman truly wanted to come here. If they were trafficked or coerced. Things like that. If you don’t register, it looks like that might have been the case. Ergo, how can we argue otherwise?”

The woman considered that, a hand going to her flat stomach. It was hard to believe she was pregnant considering how skinny she was. Did she start losing weight after she got pregnant? That couldn’t be safe.

“That’s why we really encourage registering,” Tish continued when the woman didn’t respond. “Especially as soon as you can. We can note what your plans are, and plans show that you want to be here. That you want to _stay_ here. That you intend to make a life here. The Nation can’t touch you if you _want_ to be here.”

The woman nodded, still looking a bit unsure. She opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. When she spoke, there was so much guilt in her voice that it made my heart ache.

“I didn’t want to get pregnant again,” she told us, looking between us. “I thought if I stopped eating, it wouldn’t happen. But I didn’t start soon enough, I guess. And when I found out, I tried to eat less to get rid of it, but it’s still here. I don’t know what to do.”

“Is terminating the pregnancy something you’re considering?”

The woman abruptly brought her hands to her face, choking back a sob. I watched her, understanding her dilemma. Abortions were considered a grave sin in the Nation. It just wasn’t done. Even in extreme or emergency cases. I knew from my time at the Willows the way the Nation beat that idea into women and surrogates. It was unthinkable. It was why Serenity couldn’t bring herself to abort her baby once we got out.

“That is the worst thing I could ever do,” she moaned into her hands. “How could I even…”

Tish glanced at me, obviously not expecting this. She’d been doing great up until that point. Still, I wouldn’t expect someone born and raised in the city to understand the anguish the woman felt. To understand how hard it was to let yourself have what you want when you’d been told your entire life that your own desires were a sin.

“Hey,” I said, jumping in. Shit. I just realized that we never got her name. I glanced at Tish; she was watching me, obviously letting me take the lead for the moment. “Um, what’s your name?”

The woman lowered her hands, looking at me with bemusement.

“Sally,” she said, hesitantly. As if she didn’t believe it was safe to give me her name.

“Sally,” I repeated, leaning forward to grab one of her hands. She tensed, but that was fine; at least she didn’t pull away. “I know it doesn’t feel right, but let’s really think about this. You weren’t eating before and after you got pregnant, right?”

Sally nodded, looking down in embarrassment.

“And how far along are you now?”

She shrugged. “I think I’ll be in the second trimester in a couple of weeks or so.”

“Did your doctor say it would be a high-risk pregnancy?”

Sally nodded again.

“So your baby isn’t getting any nutrition right now, and your body weight is really low. It’s likely going to be premature at this rate, which means a host of other issues. Faust City is prepared to help you with all of this, but even if you do carry the baby to term, there’s likely going to be a lot of problems raising this baby. 

“On top of that, you’re here alone. And this baby is going to need a lot of attention. And while there are lots of resources here to help you, are you prepared to raise this baby alone? Do you truly want do that?”

Sally looked at me, her dark eyes wide. After a few seconds of silence, she shook her head.

“I never wanted it to begin with,” she said. “And I know that makes me a horrible woman, but—”

“You’re not horrible for not wanting kids,” I assured her. “ _I’m_ a 26-year-old surrogate with no kids.”

“Oh my god,” the woman said, letting out a dry laugh. “If you were in the Nation, you’d have at least six by now.”

“And be pregnant with number seven.”

Sally laughed again, wiping a few tears that spilled.

“It’s still considered a sin, though,” she said, more so to convince herself it seemed. “Killing a baby—”

“Listen,” I said, cutting her off again. “I can give you the scientific spiel about how at this point, it’s just a bundle of cells. I can tell you that there is no soul in there, especially because there is no scientific way to determine ‘souls’ exist, and at the very least, there is zero brain activity where we know consciousness resides.

“But I know none of that is going to compete against a lifetime of religious teachings that say otherwise. So I’ll say this instead; if you’re here in the city now, it’s likely that you already believe, to some degree, that maybe God was asking a bit too much from you. Or, at the very least, that maybe _He_ was not the one asking this of you, but a bunch of greedy men jealous they can’t create life like you can. And so they created a bunch of bullshit rules and regulations to make sure you’ll do it on their behalf. Right?”

“That second one seems very plausible,” Sally admitted.

“I don’t think God would want you to have a baby you don’t want,” I continued. “I think He’d rather you spend some time taking care of yourself before you have children so you can be a great mom to them. I don’t think God wants you to suffer just so there’s more miserable children in the world. I think He’d rather a happy woman raise happy children. Don’t you agree?”

“Probably,” Sally said hesitantly. She looked up at me with a weak smile, squeezing my hand a little. “I’d like to think that the real God is a lot kinder than the one I grew up learning about.”

I returned her smile, and I watched as Sally’s resolved seem to grow a bit. She gave a stiff nod, turning to Tish.

“Okay,” she said. “I’d at least like to look into it. If I can.”

Tish gave Sally her beautiful smile, turning back to her computer. “Of course, you can! And I take it you’re good with registering as well?”

Sally nodded, and Tish chatted her up while filling out some things on the form that we’d already learned from the little back and forth: Sally’s marital status and how many kids she had. If she was pregnant, and what she wanted to do with her child. Even where she was originally from. Those questions had seemed unrelated when Tish asked about them earlier, but I saw now that she had been fishing for information while also trying to comfort Sally.

Now I understood why Tish wanted to show me how to get information. If someone was just asking Sally all of these questions, it would probably make her nervous. Closed off. And she wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to answer truthfully. It was more than just filling out the information on the sheet: we needed to help refugees feel welcomed and safe in Faust City.

After about another half hour, Sally was registered and given a time and date to return to the center for a checkup and career counseling. Sally was staying at a local shelter, which would suffice until they could access her health and career goals, which would help her decide how to go about permanent housing.

“That was great,” Tish said to me, sitting back down after escorting Sally to the main lobby. “You have a knack for this. I had no idea what to do honestly when she got upset over getting an abortion.”

“You’ve never gotten one?” I asked.

Tish gave me a mischievous smile. “Why do you think I have? Because I’m a whore?”

“Isn’t the proper term ‘prostitute?’”

“If you’re fancy,” Tish said with a laugh. She shook her head. “I had a few false alarms when I was younger, but I never actually got pregnant. I mean, whenever the girls at the brothels do, it’s just a quick trip to the clinics. There’s no real crying over it.”

“It’s different in the Nation,” I said with a shrug. “Abortions aren’t a thing. And to even consider it is, like, a sin.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Tish said, shrugging. “I always feel like my job is worth something when I see women like her. The Nation sounds like it sucks.”

“It does.”

But I understood what Tish meant. All my life, I’d only really interacted with other Faust City-born citizens. I’d never thought much about immigrants, especially the ones from the Nation. All of my career goals had been on academics, research, and medicine. Finding out new stuff just to say I found it. Cracking mysteries that have existed long before I was born.

None of that felt as good as comforting Sally just now did. That had been real. Human.

Tish chuckled, standing again. “Hope I never find out. Ready for another one?”

I nodded, feeling ready for anything.

~*~

“Awww! He’s sleeping!”

Tish all but ran over to Lucca standing outside of a room. He was holding a sleeping Angel in his arms, the boy still in his school uniform. I made my way over, watching as Lucca frowned at Tish and turned away from her as she approached.

“Don’t,” he told her, his voice tired. “He’s had a long day. Let him sleep.”

“Did something happen?” Tish asked, lowering her voice.

Lucca shrugged, glancing at Angel’s sleeping face on his shoulder.

“According to his teacher, he used magic to push a kid away from him. The kid is okay, but the the school is making a big deal of it, and Angel won’t tell me what happened.”

“Poor baby,” Tish said, frowning. “Angel is such an, well, angel! If he used his magic, it must have been because the kid was picking on him or something.”

“I’m worried that’s not the case since he won’t talk to me. He knows I wouldn’t be upset if that’s what it was.” Lucca sighed, shaking his head. “I’m going to keep him home the next couple of days, and maybe I’ll get it out of him over the weekend.”

“So you’re not staying?” Tish asked, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Not tonight. You going to be okay supervising?”

“Hopefully,” Tish said, her grin widening. “As long as Eliza is here running it.”

“Yeah, she’s inside already. I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

“Good luck,” Tish said with a wave, walking inside the room.

Lucca’s eyes fell on me, his face softening. “You’re joining the group?”

I have a noncommittal shrug. “Checking it out. It was Tish’s idea.”

“It’s a good one. I feel bad for not thinking of it. If anyone is going to understand what you went through, it’s the people here.”

I shrugged again. “Maybe.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lucca assured me. “I refused to see a therapist when I first got here. Until recently, actually. This group helped a lot back on those early days. Just give it a chance?”

I nodded, noticing Angel stir a bit. Lucca moved to adjust him on his other shoulder, Angel’s eyes opening briefly to look at me before closing right back again.

“I should get him home,” Lucca said, starting to move.

“Don’t seem mad about it,” I said as he headed past me.

Lucca stopped, looking at me with confusion. I nodded at Angel.

“I skipped grades as a kid, so the older kids would pick on me a lot. My mom would get really mad, trying to track down their parents to yell at them. It was embarrassing and just made me lie about it. If he thinks you’re going to get mad at him, or the teachers or whoever is messing with him, he won’t tell you about it. Don’t try to fix it; not right away at least. Just let him know you’re there to help him feel better.”

Lucca looked at me for a second before nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

I gave him a nod, watching him turn and leave. I let out a heavy sigh, glancing at the door. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous about this. I attended lots of workshops for my job before. This couldn’t be much different.

Still, I knew that this would be different from sharing some scientific findings or giving feedback on another lab’s research. This was about emotions and feelings: the very thing I became a doctor to avoid having to deal with.

I peaked inside, taking a look around. There were about fifteen chairs in a small circle, with only about half filled up. Tish was sitting next to a short woman with short, curly hair. The woman was holding a small notebook, and wearing a dress suit that made me wonder what she did for a living. A few seats down from them was a young boy with a small pregnancy bump. He seemed fascinated with a trio of women, one wearing a black hijab and also holding a small baby in her laps. They were talking about breastfeeding, the young boy’s face pale as he listened intently.

Scattered around, there were a few other people sitting on their own; a young girl looking down at a tablet, a middle-aged women with a small plate of cheese and crackers from the snack table, and a man around my age, drawing in a sketchpad in his lap.

I sat next to him, just because, and he didn’t even look up. I didn’t look at what he was drawing, figuring that was rude. Blue was an artist, and she hated it when people looked over her shoulder while she was drawing. She said it made her self-conscious.

I pulled out my phone, replying to a text from Reggie at the lab asking how I was feeling. I, of course, had lied when I called out again, saying I had a bad bout of nausea that wasn’t subsiding. Reggie, despite being a bit intense, was an all-around nice guy, and had no reason to think I was lying.

I texted him that I was feeling better, and would be at work the next day.

“You don’t look sick,” the guy next to me said.

I looked up, a bit surprised to see him looking at my phone. I frowned. Well, that was rude.

“I just needed some personal days,” I said, rather standoffish.

The guy chuckled, showing me his sketch. It was of the three women and the young boy across from us. It was pretty good. He’d gotten the detail perfectly of the little baby staring straight ahead while the women were all looking at each other and laughing at the boy’s furrow.

“I look over other people’s shoulders since I know they’re always looking over mine,” he explained, putting his sketchbook back into his lap and returning to adding more details. “You’re new.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah. Andres.”

“Shawn,” the guy said, glancing up at me. “De la Vega, right?”

I felt myself go still. “Yes.”

“I thought that was you. There was a new article in the paper this morning.”

Ah. He’d recognized me. “Was there?”

Maybe that explained the missed call from Jenn earlier. I had ignored it and soon got a voicemail. I hadn’t cared enough to listen to it yet. I did wonder if Reggie knew about it; maybe he thought that’s why I called out.

“Yeah,” Shawn said, casually. “I guess none of you guys showed up to the mediation yesterday? Went to arbitration.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about my case.

“Whole thing is a waste of time, I think,” Shawn continued, apparently not needing me to say anything. “I belonged to Delaware’s governor. If he couldn’t win the case to get me back, I don’t see how those cult guys have a leg to stand on.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but it turned out I didn’t really need to say anything. The woman sitting next to Tish clapped her hands suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.

“Good evening, everyone!” she said, watching a few stragglers sneak in and sit down. I see a couple of new faces, and so I just want to introduce myself. I’m Elizabeth Keating. Quick background story on me: I was raised in the Nation my entire life, married off at sixteen—it was legal back then, and no, don’t ask me how old I am now—and I had five children before I was twenty. A set of twins helped with that.

“I fell in love with our nanny, and we actually escaped here to the Nation together when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter. I ended up working with some, let’s just say, _unidentified organizations_ to help get my children out of the Nation as well. It was a huge international incident—you can look it up. And me and my wife have been raising my children for, goodness, I think it’s been fifteen or sixteen years now. Some of my kids are adults and living their own free lives, and I’ve been volunteering here at the IRRC as a transitional and grief counselor for about five years now.

“So that’s my story. Now, I’m not going to make the new people introduce themselves, because that would just chase you away. In general, this group is a safe space for people who have escaped the Nation to come here and tell their stories, vent, ask questions, and hopefully work through all the emotional and mental baggage that comes from living in the Nation. The floor is open: does anyone have something they want to share? Any questions?”

The young boy immediately raised his hands, the woman sitting next to him rolling her eyes.

“Douglas?” Elizabeth said, fixing a polite smile on her lips. “Another question?”

“No, actually,” Douglas said, looking like he had to refrain from rolling his own eyes. “Um, just that a lot of things happened this past week. I reached out to that adoption counselor you recommended.”

Everyone went still then, their eyes going wide. I didn’t know the history with this boy, but he had to have quite the story for that to generate such a tense response. It was like everyone was holding their breathe; Shawn had paused in his sketching to look up at Douglas.

“How did it go?” Elizabeth finally asked after a beat.

Douglas shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, we talked a lot about it, and she even showed me some profiles of couples in the city who are looking to adopt. I thought a lot of them were nice, but when we started talking about what sort of adoption to do, it got a bit messy.”

“Messy?” the young girl with the tablet asked, frowning. “Messy how?”

“I felt bad for this one couple,” Douglas said, looking down. “They’re older women, and the one who was looking to carry started menopause early a couple of years ago. So they started looking into adopting. And I guess they had a few close cases; one girl was all set to give them her child until she had the baby. Changed her mind there in the hospital. They just had a lot of disappointments.”

“Are you afraid that you would do the same?” Elizabeth asked. “Change your mind at the last minute?”

Douglas shook his head, his eyes still on the ground. “No. I mean, the women were open to the idea of an open adoption. And Kay asked me what I wanted that to look like. I was thinking about wanting to be around for birthdays and holidays: the major events. Video calls and pictures for check-ins.

“But then I thought later down the line, wanting to be there to see him start school. And take him for his checkups. All that. And I kinda had to admit that I didn’t want to be a surrogate parent; I wanted to be a parent. And pretending this was going to end any other way was unfair.”

“Oh wow,” one of the women sitting next to him said. “So that’s why you were asking so many questions about taking care of a baby today.”

There were small chuckles from a few people, though I missed whatever joke that was supposed to be. He seemed really young. I knew surrogates in the Nation were sold off to families at eighteen. Even if he didn’t get pregnant right away, I doubted he was even twenty yet. To be alone in a new city, young and pregnant with no idea of what to do had to be terrifying.

“I know it took me a while to get to this point,” Douglas continued, looking a bit abashed. “But we all know I’m not getting rid of him, and I couldn’t put him up for adoption. I only have one other option, so I had to start planning for that. Oh! And so I came here to enroll in the career program. I get to start shadowing people next week. I’m lucky I know how to read and write since that will give me a head start.”

“Any ideas on what you might want to do?” Shawn asked, his pencil forgotten in his lap.

Douglas shrugged again. “Not really. I thought it would be nice to be a veterinarian assistant, but I think that’s a little out of my reach.”

“Ah, I wish Lucca was here,” Tish said, smiling at Douglas. “He’s going to be a nurse! He’d tell you to go for it.”

“A lot of immigrants go into nursing,” the woman in the hijab suggested. “Working with a different sort of animal.”

Douglas shook his head. “No, I doubt I would be good at that. I feel like I could forgive myself if I accidently killed an animal than if I accidently killed a person.”

“I know some animal lovers who would hate you for saying that,” Elizabeth said, getting laughs around the circle. She smiled at Douglas. “But really, good job Douglas. I think we’re all impressed by the strides you made, and just in one week!”

There was a light applause from everyone in the circle. I joined in to be polite. Douglas looked embarrassed at the attention, though if everyone else’s reaction to him was an indicator, he was used to being the center of it at the group. Maybe he wasn’t used to positive attention: maybe he was only used to being condescended to by a group of people who were sick of talking about his uncertainties.

I blinked, wondering why that felt oddly familiar.

“Thank you,” Douglas said, looking at Elizabeth. “So, that’s also my way of saying I’m not going to be taking up everyone’s time at group. So someone else can talk now!”

Everyone laughed at that, and Elizabeth looked around, her eyes lingering on me for longer than I felt comfortable with.

“In that case,” she asked, “does anyone else want to share?”

There was silence as everyone looked around, looking for someone else to start. No one had anything to say. I sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything. Elizabeth exchanged glances with Tish before moving to flip through her notepad.

“Well, that’s pretty rare,” she said. “In that case, we can talk about some of the topics I never get a chance to bring up. Let’s see. Oh, here’s a good one. So Douglas used a very interesting word today that I don’t really see used here very often. And that word was ‘want.’ In my work with immigrants and refugees, I’ve noticed that the word ‘want’ is rarely used. Rather, your own desires are rarely acknowledged. Any thoughts on that?”

I frowned. I couldn’t relate to that. I thought a lot about what I wanted.

“It’s like,” the older woman holding her now empty cheese plate started, looking up as she thought. “So, in the Nation, as women—as surrogates too—we’re not really allowed to think about wants. At least not fertile women. Our wants are to simply marry someone who will put a lot of babies in us and take care of us. And to raise our children healthily so they can grow up and create more babies.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s hard to think of what your desires are when you’re literally not allowed to want anything other than what your country tells you to want. Let’s use Douglas as an example. When he first came here, he wasn’t even showing yet. And he kept asking us what he needed to do. He was looking for someone to give him an order and for him to follow it. That’s probably why it was easy for him to reach out to the adoption counselor: it was a clear order.”

Everyone nodded, Douglas furrowing his brow at her a bit.

“Kay’s job isn’t to just try to get people to give up their babies,” Elizabeth continued. “Her job is to help people figure out if adoption is the right choice for them. She’s very good at helping people who are thinking of putting their children up for adoption to really look within themselves to see if giving their baby up is something they truly _want_ to do.”

“She did harp on that a lot,” Douglas added, reminiscing. “When she asked me if I wanted a closed adoption, I knew right away that I wouldn’t want that. But I guess my answer didn’t click until she made me sit and really think about what an open adoption would look like.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Exactly. But notice how it didn’t just stop with what the adoption: she forced you to look at what you wanted your future to look like. How much you wanted to be in your child’s life years from now. She forced you to envision the future you truly wanted. And only when you did that did you realize you wanted to parent. You didn’t _want_ to give your baby up. And then, suddenly, you were able to make decisions on other matters.

“From my experience, pushing down your own desires to do what is best for people other than yourself is the biggest factor in holding people back from making strides forward. Looking at others to decide for you, or doing what you think will make them happy means that you’re always questioning your steps. You take a step forward and immediately freak out, forcing you to jump back ten before trying again.”

“But not everything we want can happen,” the woman in the hijab said. “I want my baby to grow up with her father, but Hasan would never agree to my terms.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, nodding at her. “We don’t live in a magical world where all our desires come true. But when we’re in alignment with our desires, we’re more likely to take steps to make them come true as much as possible.”

“What if our desires are wrong?” I asked before I could stop myself. Everyone’s eyes turned to me, some surprised while others intrigued.

“Wrong how?” Elizabeth asked, tilting her head a bit.

I shrugged. “Just wrong. Like, not something we should want.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I mean, if it’s something dangerous, like a narcotic or—”

“No, not that,” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure why I even spoke.

Elizabeth took a pause, glancing at Tish before leaning forward a bit.

“It’s obviously more specific then,” she said, her voice gentle. She was good at that: seeming so gentle and open to receive whatever anyone might want to dump on her. “Would you mind sharing with us, um…”

She was opening the floor for me to introduce myself. I had no intention of sharing. Talking about this with Lucca over a smoke alone was one thing. Talking about it with my therapist was one thing. But admitting this to a group of strangers who could be retraumatized by the very thing I wanted was just wrong.

“Andres,” I muttered, thinking after I said it that I should have given a fake name. Something told me Tish wouldn’t rat me out.

“Andres,” Elizabeth noted, nodding. “Thank you for coming out tonight.”

I nodded.

“Would you mind elaborating on what you’re referencing,” she pushed, trying to get me to say more. “Only with what you’re comfortable with, of course.”

I shrugged, wishing I never spoke up. “Like, what if sometimes you want to go back?”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised when I saw a few people nod around me. The woman with the hijab adjusted her baby when she started fussing.

“I get that,” she said, resting the baby against her shoulder. “Especially when I look at Haneen. I think, ‘wouldn’t it be easier to just go back to her father?’ I think about it every day.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement. I wasn’t expecting anyone to understand that; I thought everyone who came to Faust City wanted to be here. Were happy to leave their old lives behind. But other people wanted to go back too?

“It’s just—” I started, cutting myself off. I felt a need to elaborate. “So, there’s this particular religious community in the Nation that lets the men marry surrogates…” My words fell off as I thought about what else to say. “He’s my husband. He _was_ my husband. And sometimes—all the time, actually—I just, I don’t know, miss him.”

“Let’s explore that,” Elizabeth said, watching the people who seemed to relate to what I was saying. “Let’s stop and think what we’re truly missing. Is it sex?”

I shook my head, watching a few other people consider that. I personally was A-Okay on the sex front.

“Maybe it’s the security of having a man take care of you.”

I shook my head again though I watched the woman in the hijab nod. I was good on the security front too: I did well for myself and my parents were always there as a safety net in the worst-case scenario.

“Or, maybe, it’s the affection. Having someone there to praise you, love on you; even if that love isn’t necessarily the healthiest.”

I thought of Lyle. If I entertained the idea of getting with him, I wouldn’t have to worry about that. He wanted to love me. Enough that he wasn’t trying to get with me for my own wellbeing.

Lyle was such a nice guy.

“No,” I said. “None of that.”

Elizabeth did hesitate then, quirking a brow.

“If you can get all of those things from anyone else,” she said, “and yet you still miss him, did it occur to you that maybe you love him?”

I blinked at her, my mind going blank for a few seconds.

“No,” I said, my voice hard. “I don’t.”

“Because if you can get love and security and sex from someone else but everything keeps going back to him, that sounds like the definition of love. Is it that you love him but feel you’re not supposed to? Are you afraid that you _want_ to love him?”

I didn’t answer, though the woman in the hijab did nod at that, her eyes looking off as she thought about her own ex-husband.

“Would you get back with him if he came here?” Douglas asked suddenly.

I frowned at him. “He would never do it.”

“But, like, if he did. If he was willing to. Would you be okay with wanting him then?”

I blinked at him now. Evan would never go with coming to Faust City. The Willows was his home. It was where his family was. It was his birthright to one day lead it. Despite how much he says he loves me, he would never give it up for me.

So the onus had fallen on me. I had to be willing to give up all he refused to: my career, my family, my future. All for him. I hated that _I_ had to be the one to do it. Mother—his mother—would call it a wife’s duty to compromise.

But what if he did choose me over it all? I felt my heart skip at the thought. The idea of Evan being there in the house I was buying, holding me at night made my stomach flutter. I thought of waking up to make breakfast for the two of us before work. I thought of coming home to him, kissing him and telling him how much I loved him. Of Friday night date-nights eating out around the city. I’d show him all the best places in Faust City to eat, and we’d spend weekends shopping for groceries and visiting museums.

I wanted that so badly. I wanted Evan here, in Faust City, with me. I wanted a future with Evan. I wanted him to compromise; to accept me on my terms. But most of all, I just fucking wanted him.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Elizabeth continued then, talking more about the concept of desires. I tuned her out, thinking instead of this new revelation. Thinking of that day on the court steps what felt like a lifetime ago when the reporter asked me the question that made me trip up. Did I love Evan? The question seemed so asinine and stupid then. But realizing the answer, knowing why I never just threw his handkerchief away, letting it sit on top of my dresser, was jarring.

I loved Evan.

“Hey,” Shawn said to me once group concluded. Everyone was moving to get up, a few people talking while some others walked over to the snack table to load up their plates to take home. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I lied, standing up and stretching out my back.

“You got so quiet after a while,” Shawn continued, packing up his sketchbook in a small messenger bag. “I thought maybe you were upset.”

“Just facing some hard truths,” I admitted, my tone flat.

Shawn chuckled, giving me a nod. “That’s group for you.”

He started to move—to leave—pulling out his phone.

“Hey,” I said, moving towards him.

Shawn stopped, turning to look at me.

“Yeah?”

“You got anywhere you need to be?” I asked. “Like, now or soon?”

Shawn blinked at me before smiling. “Nope. Was just going to spend the night home alone.”

Perfect. “Wanna grab a drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andres is about to have a very wild night lol. 
> 
> Ahhhh. So how do we feel about that? Surprised? No? You saw it coming? You were wondering how long it would take for Andres to figure it out? Wow. 
> 
> I think it was pretty obvious from the beginning that Andres still had feelings for Evan. But it was more about his journey of figuring that out for himself. And what's going to happen now that he recognizes it. Poor thing. 
> 
> Shawn is a pretty good guy. Needs to respect other people's boundaries a bit though lol. Andres is going to return to group; Tish and Lucca were right in thinking this was a good place for him to be. And he made a friend his first day! 
> 
> I wanted to show Lucca struggling to parent a bit. It's not going to be a major plot point in any story, but poor Angel was getting teased for his father being an refugee. Most kids at the school Angel attend are Faustians; few immigrants and refugees have the means (or awesome connections like Lucca) to go to that school. So it's an easy thing for kids to pick up on. Though where do you think they got that idea from? Their parents are quite rude. 
> 
> Angel doesn't fully understand why he's being teased, but knowing that it has something to do with his father makes it hard for him to want to open up. He doesn't want to hurt Lucca's feelings or upset him. Lucca probably would get angry upon learning that some kids were bullying his child, and he likely would find the parents and talk with them. Nicely, but it'd be a talk lol. Still, that's exactly what Angel doesn't want, so he's keeping quiet. He'll probably eventually open up. But for now, he's sulking. 
> 
> Andres' advise is a good one. Being the parent of a bullied kid has to be hard: how do you react? I remember when I was a kid, I hated knowing my mother would get angry and start yelling at other adults. I don't have the answer to how to parent a child being bullied, but I can say that it's not helpful if you're the sort of parent who explodes over it. 
> 
> Aaaaaany who, June starts tomorrow. And with it, I sort of really want to stop meandering about and really work on my writing goals. I want to start a blog and youtube channel focusing on writing/storytelling, which is code for long winded rants about the nerdy shows I watch lol. I've been wanting to do it for a while, but I've just been so blah. 
> 
> But I feel different recently. I'm not sure why, but I feel more like myself for the first time in a long time. I've been enjoying things more, in a really genuine way. Oh, and I finally finished the Harry Potter book and Avatar: The Last Airbender! 
> 
> It's so funny revisiting these things from my childhood. I think that's part of what is so fun: I liked some awesome stuff as a kid. At the end of the Sorcerer's Stone, Dumbledore just gives this big exposition dump to Harry at the infirmary. And I was laughing because that would NOT fly by today's writing standards. But it WORKS since it's Harry Potter and what all happens. It's so simplistic where you know it's for kids, but it's also so in depth and interesting. It was fun rereading it. 
> 
> I'm a little nervous about starting Chamber of Secrets because when I was a kid, I remembered that book scared me lol. It was something about the mystery of something going around petrifying students and the spiders and omg...it was so scary! I remember one day reading it in the bath and just getting so scared. I know it won't scare me now, but I'm a bit concerned for 8/9 year old me. Why did that book scare me? 
> 
> And with Avatar, it was soooooooooooo good! I had so much fun watching it! I know most people talk about it like the best written cartoon show of all time, but it really is that good! In my opinion, She-Ra has surpassed it, but it's a close second! It's so good! All my babies in the gaang and the story and Mark Hamill playing the Fire Lord! I loved it! God, it's soooo good. I want to rewatch Legend of Korra now, but I know it's going to make me mad. So I'm going to bask in how good ATLA was before giving that a try. Lol. 
> 
> Also, a bit of bad news; I'm considering putting the story on hiatus again for the summer. I'd really hate to do that, but there are some things happening that might mean I need to. Nothing is set in stone yet, and I still plan on doing a post bomb my birthday weekend in two weeks. But I'm just warning that it could be happening. 
> 
> Hope you guys are having a nice weekend and have a nice week coming up! Leave me comments! Yummy, delicious comments! See you all next week!


	25. Chapter 25

There was a methodology that I was starting to recognize at the Willows. A gentle way in which everyone seemed to be in their rightful place. The men who worked on the compound were always moving; building new houses, doing the hard labor on the farm and in the kitchens, making repairs, and acting as teachers to the boys not quite old enough for school outside the compound but too old to be at the daycare with the toddlers.

There were women whose job it seemed to walk around the compound and look for any man working to offer him water and snacks. There were women and surrogates in the kitchens, in the daycares, in the sewing rooms, and doing the light farm work. The ones who had downtime spent it in their homes, cleaning. Some women and surrogates would go outside to the table, chatting briefly before greeting their returning husbands who snuck away from their day jobs. They would then disappear into their homes, the reason obvious.

Any woman and surrogate not busy with any of those things spent the hour before lunch in the church, participating in the prayer group/bible study. Which, really, was nothing but an hour-long indoctrination of a wife’s duty to their husband, family, and the Willows. I suffered through it quietly, Serenity was there as well. We didn’t get to talk, all things considered. By the time we were allowed out, a group of women her age tugged her to their spot towards the back of the large table.

Another one of those unspoken rules was who sat where. I hadn’t noticed it at breakfast, but there were very distinct rules on that matter. The biggest being women sat on one side while men and surrogates on another. I was surprised by the fact that surrogates sat next to the men; women and surrogates were usually treated the exact same in the Willows. At least that was my impression.

But I quickly saw why that was when the children came out of the daycare—right next to the intake building—in a single file line, quietly and calmly. There were a lot more children on the compound than I initially thought. And these were just the ones too young for school or proper work. The children, even the little boys, sat on the same side as the women. Obviously so it was easier for the women to tend to them. The only children on the other side were babies whose surrogate fathers were nursing and were too small to sit on their own on the other side.

All of this meant that when I went to the head of the table—near the stage, where Mother was already sitting at the head, next to the women’s side of the table—I was faced with the reality that all of the deacon’s wives were women. Including Mrs. Ruthanne, five women sat on Mother’s side, listening to her talk about something. Mother watched me approached, a small smile touching her lips when I sat down opposite Ruthanne.

“Andres,” she greeted me, her voice sugary-sweet. “How lovely for you to join us.”

“Of course,” I said, because it wasn’t like I had any choice. I glanced at Father’s empty seat. “Is it okay for me to sit here?”

Ruthanne smiled, her chin resting in her hand. “Our husbands don’t typically come to lunch,” she told me. “You’re safe. Today at least.”

Mother stood then, telling everyone at the table to bow their heads so she could lead us in grace. I was surprised that despite the other men who were still around for lunch, that duty would fall on Mother without Father or the deacons being around. I hated to admit that Evan was right: I was learning a lot about the community without having to ask a single question.

“You’re prettier up close,” the woman next to Ruthanne said once Mother sat down and everyone was safe to dig in. “I’m Geraldine. Welcome to the Willows, Andres.”

Mrs. Geraldine was tall and pale, her blond hair straight and down her back. She had angular features that made her look like she was frowning, but she nodded her head in approval as she took a second to take me in.

While I thanked her, the woman next to her also looked me up and down. She was easily the heaviest of the group, though part of that was due to her being very obviously pregnant. She also was easily the youngest of them, looking like she was in her mid-thirties at the oldest. Her dark hair fell in bangs in her eyes, which did nothing to hide the snarky grin on her face.

“A bit skinny,” she said, then shrugged lazily. She glanced at the woman next to her. “Right, Maddie?”

The woman, a bored-looking redhead whose graying hair was the only thing betraying her age, nodded.

“He doesn’t look particularly fertile,” she commented, her tone flat. “Debbie, aren’t you on, like, your seventh kid?”

“Eight, Maddie,” the pregnant one—Mrs. Debbie—corrected. It was obviously a set up so she could brag. “I don’t think I’ve gone a full year without a baby in me since I turned eighteen. How old are you, Andres?”

“Twenty-five,” I said, feeling the judgement from the two of them.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Geraldine said, giving me a patient smile. “A bit of a late start, but nothing some enthusiastic effort won’t correct.”

There was a pause while all the woman watched me. I realized a bit too late that I was expected to say something to that. I wasn’t sure what: I assumed all I had to do was sit there and happily accept whatever criticisms they had of me. Which seemed silly: I didn’t ask to be here. Why did I have to be subjected to this?

Still, I sat up a bit straighter, nodding at Mrs. Geraldine.

“Evan’s been very enthusiastic,” I told her, pretending it wasn’t awkward to say that in front of Evan’s mother. “On that front.”

Mrs. Geraldine smiled, moving to fill her plate with some of the smothered meat on the plates and bowls in front of us.

“Excellent. I always knew he would be.”

“Rumi said you’re a doctor,” the woman on the end said, getting my attention while everyone else filled up their plate. “What sort of doctor?”

“A geneticist,” I told her, making sure my plate was filled before anyone could complain about me not eating.

Mrs. Debbie frowned at me. “A what?”

“A geneticist,” I repeated patiently. “I completed my fellowship in genetics about two years ago. But I’d been doing more research over the last year than meeting with patients.”

“Genetics,” Mrs. Debbie repeated, unimpressed. “What do you do with that?”

“We test people for possible genetic disorders. Muscular dystrophy, Huntington’s disease, sickle cell, cystic fibrosis, even some cancers—”

“Wow,” Mrs. Maddie said, sounding bored. “All that fancy work just to end up here.”

Mrs. Debbie failed to hold back a snort at that, and I didn’t have a response for that. I focused on eating, the smothered meat turning out to be eggplant. I was surprised I liked it. The woman on the end watched me for a while before looking at Mother.

“Has Evan mentioned his placement?” she asked.

I watched Mother, wondering what that meant. Mother glanced at me before shrugging.

“No, not yet. He had to go into work today, but he said he’s taking the next week off to properly attend to things here.”

“Can you put in a word to send him to us?” the woman asked her. “He’d need less training than any of these other kids.”

I glanced at the woman on the end, taking in her pretty, golden brown skin and strong frame. She had a no-nonsense face and a cute, chunky nose. Her coils were braided back in two cornrows, the ends resting on her shoulders.

Mother looked at me, and a smile climbed up her face.

“I’ll put the word in,” she said. “I think Evan would love him working with you all.”

“Better you take him than me, Nydia,” Mrs. Lynn said, plopping down next to the woman—Mrs. Nydia.

The other women greeted her as Mrs. Lynn took off her apron and tossed on the bench next to her. She immediately loaded up her plate, taking bites and making faces as she tasted everything.

“Useless idiots,” she muttered, eating more, and shaking her head at the other women. “The whole lot of them. And I got a new one coming in for dinner. The other boy from this group.” She gestured vaguely at me, shaking her head. “I don’t have time for all these new hands.”

“The girl is with us at the daycare,” Mrs. Geraldine said, smiling. “I think it’s good to see how they are with children.”

“Cooking is most important,” Mrs. Lynn said. She gave me a pointed look. “I need competent people.”

“I can use him,” Mrs. Nydia said, seeming to cut off whatever argument was going to start if Mrs. Geraldine’s face was any indication. “We’re not men, ladies. No don’t need to get into a dick measuring contest.”

Mrs. Lynn and Mrs. Geraldine looked properly admonished, focusing on their food. I was struggling to keep up. Did I even need to be here for this conversation?

“I remember hearing,” Mrs. Ruthanne said, thinking as she worked on her salad, “that Spartans believed the women should be strong in order to have strong children.”

“So?” Debbie—Mrs. Debbie—asked, her voice a bit bratty.

“Similar idea,” she said, pointing to me. “Smart mother means a smart child.”

“We do need more of those,” Mrs. Geraldine said. “Evan’s very bright himself. My husband said his advocacy work with the state has been amazing.”

“Advocacy?” I asked before I could stop myself. What the fuck did that mean?

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head,” she said, waving me off. “My husband is always saying stuff like that when he knows good and well I don’t know what he’s talking about. It’s not really our concern, but I at least could understand it means Evan is doing a good job.”

“He’s a good kid,” Mrs. Maddie stated matter-of-factly. “Couldn’t have asked for a better future leader, honestly.”

The women nodded and voiced their agreement while Mother beamed.

“Didn’t expect him to marry outside the community, though,” Mrs. Debbie said, smiling prettily at me. “I’m sure his genes will win out over any issues doing that may cause.”

I smiled back at her. “That’s not really how genetics work, but I can’t blame you for not knowing that.”

Mrs. Debbie’s smile fell off her face while Mrs. Nydia and Mrs. Lynn chuckled to themselves. Mrs. Geraldine and Mrs. Ruthanne were better at hiding their smiles while Mother frowned.

“It’s a good thing we’re not here for school lectures,” Mother said pointedly at me, “but rather to be dutiful and submissive wives.”

The other women nodded vaguely, and I finished off my food, nodding with them. Leave it to Mother to try to reign me in.

“A bit of a note, Andres,” Mother said, sipping her water. “Growing up, my father used to say that a wife who’s a smartass ends up with a constant smart ass.”

I blinked at her. It wasn’t nearly as clever as she obviously thought it was. Still, if anything, it got her point across.

“The word ‘smart’ is used in an older idiom sense,” she continued when I didn’t respond. “But you’re smart enough to understand it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mother.”

~*~

“Oh, good! You’re here!”

Kian and Laura Mae had been sitting in the salon-style chairs, Laura Mae’s light voice chatting about something. When we walked in, however, they both froze and turned to us. Laura Mae’s smile fell when her eyes turned from me to Shiloh.

After a very long lunch, Mrs. Ruthanne called Shiloh over to escort me to Kian’s salon before he had to report to the kitchens to clean up lunch and start prepping for dinner. Shiloh seemed disappointed he wasn’t able to spend more time with Josh—who lamented that he needed to get back to work anyway—but he happily took on the task.

I was surprised Kian and Laura Mae were there. Shiloh noted that they kept odd hours, and part of the fun of getting one’s hair done in the Willows was trying to catch someone. It was a small building, similar to the barber shop where the men got their hair cut, with about five stations and a waiting area at the window by the front door.

Kian had a book in his lap, which he discreetly and quickly closed, and tucked away in a drawer at the station he was sitting at. I wondered about that. Was he not allowed to read?

“Afternoon, darlings,” Laura Mae said pleasantly while Kian stood. He headed to the back where there was a wash station, sorting through the cabinets while Laura Mae tilted her chair back. “How can we help y’all today?”

“I’m just dropping Andres up,” Shiloh said. He pretended not to see the look of relief on Laura Mae’s face. “His hair is a dry mess and I have dinner duty.”

Laura Mae nodded at those two statements as if they were really related.

“Well you’re in the right place, Andres. Wanna come to my station and—”

“LM, shut up,” Kian said from the back, catching my eye. He gestured with his finger for me to go to him. “C’mere.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Laura Mae said, following me as I headed back to the wash station. “How am I supposed to get good at this type of hair if you never let me practice on it?”

“Bye, Andres!” Shiloh called from the door, catching the hint that he was being ignored. “I probably won’t really see you until tomorrow.”

“Oh, bye,” I said as Kian guided me into the chair. “Thanks for today.”

Shiloh smiled before walking out, the door shutting silently behind him. Laura Mae collapsed in the chair next to me while Kian leaned my chair back so that I was lying with my head over the sink. Laura Mae seemed fascinated as he turned the water on, let it warm for a minute, and started in.

“You’re not fair,” Laura Mae was still complaining. She was loud enough to be heard over the running water. “How am I supposed to learn how to do Black hair if you refuse to let me?”

“Does it really matter?” I asked. I couldn’t help but ask; what was her fascination with my hair? “If Kian can do it, I mean. And there were the other people the other day.”

“Oh, there’s only about six of us that work here with Kian. They only show up if they know they have to though. But I’m the only white one. And in case you ain’t notice, our community is _very_ diverse.”

“I noticed,” I said, noncommittally as Kian opened a bottle that smelled like tea tree oil and dumped product into his hands.

When his fingers reached my scalped, I wondered momentarily if I’d died and gone to heaven. Kian’s fingers were magic. I immediately felt myself relax, closing my eyes as he massaged my scalp.

“Well,” Laura Mae continued, her voice actually a pretty backdrop. Like an ASMR video. “Well, it’s so diverse that my husband is Black. And our children got hair, well, similar to yours really. Now, all my young’uns are boys, but I’m pregnant now, and the blood test at the doctors said it’s looking like a girl. Meaning it’s either going to be a girl or a surrogate. And either way, it means they can’t keep their hair short, so I gotta learn how to do it.” 

“You have plenty of time to learn,” Kian said, his voice sounding tired.

“So you say, but I’ve read all the books on how to take care of curly hair and detangling and butters and oils and stuff. I need to actually practice.”

Kian let out a heavy sigh, and I felt a bit bad for him. Laura Mae seemed to as well, as she got quiet while Kian washed the shampoo out.

“He’s new,” Kian said after washing my hair again and turning the water off. “I needed to see what his hair was like before I let you loose with it.”

“I haven’t worn it out in years,” I admitted. “As soon as it was long enough for me to lock it up, I’d been doing that.”

“Wow,” Laura Mae said. “So like, extra virgin hair?”

“No,” I said with a laugh. “I dyed it a bit in college when I was feeling rebellious. I dyed it back when I started my residency.”

“Oh yeah. I heard you were a smarty-pants.”

“What?”

“Like, really smart. You were a doctor in Faust City?”

I started to nod, but Kian gripped some of my hair and pulled it back. He had doused my hair with a slippery conditioner and was detangling my hair now.

“Wow,” Laura Mae said again. “A surrogate as a doctor. You’d never see that here. In the Nation, I mean. Only infertile women are allowed to be educated.”

“Shame,” I said. “Some of the most brilliant minds I’ve met had been women. Serenity was in her first year of med school when this happened. Jacob was set to graduate next month.”

“Wow. Isn’t he, like, really young?”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of Jacob. I hadn’t seen him, really, since the day before. Declan kept him from eating with us at lunch and dinner. I hadn’t seen him at breakfast or lunch earlier. “Jacob is a literal genius. Like, I skipped some grades, but he moved a lot faster than me.”

“Wow,” Laura Mae said. It seemed to be her go-to. “Seems like a waste of time to me. Y’all are all here now.”

“Laura Mae,” Kian said, his fingers melting away my tangles with a precision that I was currently too irritated to admire. “Can you get me some towels?”

Laura Mae disappeared, leaving us for a few moments of peace. When she returned, she asked Kian what he was doing. That turned into a debate over whether she would fuck up my hair if she tried to help—I really doubted that she would, but Kian seemed to like not letting her help—which ended with Laura Mae going into the backroom to look for some oils that Kian apparently didn’t have.

“I can tell her to leave if she’s annoying you,” Kian said to me once she was gone.

“She’s not,” I said as Kian turned the water on again.

Kian hummed as he rinsed the conditioner out thoroughly. Laura Mae came back with a handful of jars and bottles, dropping them on the counter. She glanced outside, watching a small group of older surrogates walk bye, waving at a woman approaching them. They all stopped for a few seconds to talk before they continued on their way together.

“I need to get the boys off the bus,” Laura Mae said, frowning. She glanced at us, obviously not wanting to leave. “Want me to grab yours?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Kian said. “I think Harry and Polly are the house if you want to drop them off there.”

“I’ll just take ‘em to my house,” Laura Mae said, heading to the door. “I know midterms are coming up, so I have to help make sure they’re studying properly. I’ll come get you for dinner.”

With a smile and wave, Laura Mae was gone.

“Do you not like her?” I asked as Kian wrapped the towel around my hair.

Kian guided me to a chair up front, securing the towel properly so he could sort through the products Laura Mae had brought out.

“I love her,” Kian said rather bluntly. “As much as I love everyone else in the Willows.”

Right. Kian returned with two jars and a bottle of a dark, amber oil.

“I just hate having to explain every little thing,” Kian finished.

That was fair I figured. Kian was quiet as he worked, moisturizing my hair with products, using a lightweight oil to seal it in. My mother wasn’t this thorough with hair, but I had aunts with curlier textures who took it very seriously. They used to chide my mother for not doing more with my hair growing up. It had rarely mattered. As a child, I always wanted short hair like my father. Until I decided to get locs.

Still, there were times where my parents let my hair grow out long enough that something needed to be done to it. If my mother’s sisters weren’t available, then my father’s were. His older sister, Ashley, used to do hair for anyone willing to pay for the time in her neighborhood. I liked her best because she was gentle with my hair, unlike my other aunts who yanked and pulled at tangles without any care if they were ripping my hair out.

Kian’s touch reminded me of Ashley. Quick and efficient yet patient. I felt him part my hair as he went, twisting my hair before wrapping them up in buns. I’d never had bantu knots before.

“Is there a dryer here?” I asked after a while, noticing that I didn’t see one around.

“Hmm? No. Why?”

“How are you going to dry my hair?”

“Oh, we have a blow dryer, but I wouldn’t use that on your hair. You can just let this airdry.”

That surprised me. “No one would have a problem with my hair in bantu knots?”

“No,” Kian said, and I could see his shrug from the corner of my eye. “Twists and braids aren’t really proper for surrogates, but if it’s up like this, no one will complain.”

More silence. I didn’t mind it, really. Kian was soft-spoken, and seemed like a man of few words. It was a nice reprieve after spending all morning with Shiloh, and lunch with the deacons’ wives. Still, it was a bit surprising that he was a parent if he was so quiet. My father was more introverted, but he was always talkative around me. Even more so around my mother. If I ever saw him get quiet, it was because he was around so many people, like my mother’s family, who would talk so much and so fast that he never got a chance to get word in edgewise. But whenever it was just the three of us, or even just him and me, he chatted on until someone stopped him.

I’d never really met someone who was quiet even where there was no one to interrupt them.

“Sorry,” Kian said after another long break. “I always forget to talk when no one else is around.”

I blinked. That was an odd way of putting it. I didn’t mind, but it was an invitation to a conversation. I decided to accept it.

“I don’t mind it,” I admitted. “We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

Kian hummed, and something about it told me there was more to it than that. Maybe it was some sort of rule on the compound. Mrs. Ruthanne had emphasized the importance of me speaking up if I was “struggling;” Evan as well. Communication seemed to be big thing in the Willows.

“You’re older than the others,” he said.

It didn’t sound like a question, but I realized quickly I was supposed to respond like it was.

“Than Jacob and Serenity? Yeah. I’m twenty-five.”

“Hmm. My husband was saying something about a late start for you. Serenity as well, but not quite that bad. Most surrogates have at least five children by your age.”

I wanted to be sick of all the baby-talk, but given that it was the Nation, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Outside of the Willows, my entire purpose would be dedicated to having children for infertile couples. Of course the Willows would be more of the same.

“So I hear,” I said, politely. “Do you have at least five?”

“Seven,” Kian said.

I let out a breath. Shit. That was a lot. No wonder he looked so tired all the time.

“Wow,” I finally said. “I honestly can’t imagine that. But you’re done now, right?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Isn’t that how the Nation works? You get your number and once you hit it, you’re done?” I couldn’t imagine someone being expected to have more than seven children.

“Not quite,” Kian said, picking up the comb to start another part in my hair. “You get your initial number and that’s what you strive for. Once you hit it, they sort of, I guess, reassess your health to see if it’s safe to have more.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Is it common to have more?” I asked. I felt like I already knew the answer.

“Pretty common. My original number was only four. After my youngest, we were told we could try for two more. My last one was a bit unplanned, but wasn’t too difficult.”

“Wow.” So Kian could end up with even more. “Sounds exhausting.”

Kian actually chuckled a little at that.

“It is a little. I’m, oh, I lose count, 31? Or 32? I feel like I’ve spent my entire marriage pregnant. Though I was allowed a break after Noel.”

Something clicked in my head and I frowned. “Are you pregnant now?”

Kian let out a heavy sigh and didn’t answer for a long moment. He was working on the back of my hair, rubbing oil on the follicles there: I was sure my hair was thinner there since I slept on my back.

“My husband has this rule,” Kian finally said as he twisted my hair, “that we don’t make the official announcement until the second trimester. However, if someone asks me, I have to be honest. So yes, I am.”

I suddenly felt very sorry for Kian. He looked exhausted the few times I saw him. Managing seven children couldn’t be easy, even if he had a household—or, hell, an entire community—of people helping. His natural disposition seemed pretty gentle and quiet; and yet he wasn’t allowed to be quiet. I couldn’t relate, but I knew there were types of people who needed alone time to recharge. But I doubted Kian got any of that in the Willows.

And even I knew pregnancies were rough. I’d seen enough of my aunts and a few cousins go through them to know that. I had one cousin who was completely bedridden for a month because of how exhausted she got. And when she did get out of bed, it was to puke her guts out. Even if Kian didn’t have difficult pregnancies, he had to be drained.

“Congrats,” I said before the pause between went on too long. Right when I realized that that was good news here. Even at my age, if my friends back home told me they were pregnant, it’d be a serious conversation about their options and if they needed help either way.

But in the Nation—in the Willows? There could be no other option than joyful acceptance.

“Thank you,” Kian said, though it sounded as obligatory as my congratulations.

“I really can’t imagine having that many children.”

“God willing, He’ll provide them.”

Okay, right. I wasn’t sure why I expected anything less. Did Kian really believe that, or was it also obligatory?

“Are you a—what do they call it?” I started, trying to remember the word I kept hearing the day before. “A rescue? Are you a rescue?”

“No,” Kian said. “I was born and raised here.”

That sounded miserable. Still…

“Oh, that’s interesting. So your parents are still here?”

“My father is. He’s one of the council members, actually. He remarried my stepmother, Debbie. She’s a rescue. My mother passed some years ago.”

That was a lot of information Kian just sprung on me. And wild. Debbie looked about the same age as Kian, and yet she was his stepmother? Gross. And his father was one of the council members?

“I’m sorry about your mother,” I said.

“Thank you. She’s the one who taught me how to do hair, actually.”

“Really? Was this shop hers?”

“It was. She was amazing. I only had brothers, so I was the only one she could teach.”

“So you have siblings here, too?”

“No, not really.” Kian paused, as if unsure if he should keep speaking. I was hoping he would: I was learning a lot about how the Willows operated. “Two of them are excommunicated, though my younger brother is doing missionary work.”

Now that was interesting. So people in the Willows could be excommunicated? Probably only men though. I wondered what would cause that to happen, and if that had anything to do with the lack of virile men on the compound.

“The Willows does missionary work?” I asked, since that was likely the safest of the two topics to talk about.

Kian hummed. “We have a sister church not far off.”

He didn’t say more on that, which was rather suspicious. He secured the last knot, before letting out a satisfied breath.

“You’re all done, sweetheart.”

I took the mirror Kian gave me and examined his work. The parts were neat and evenly spaced, the buns thick and shiny. I had never seen myself in a style like this, but it didn’t look bad. I touched a bun, feeling it was secure without pulling my hair too tightly. It would, at least, last the night assuming Evan didn’t get too handsy in my hair.

“This looks great,” I told Kian, smiling. “I have some aunties who could use some pointers.”

Kian chuckled, moving to pack up the stuff.

“You should be good to take them out by tomorrow,” he was saying. “Or the day after. Your hair is pretty thick, so I’m not sure how long it’ll take to dry. If you want me to style it afterwards, I can. Like how I did it for the wedding ceremony.”

Yeah, I didn’t want that.

“I want to play with it first,” I said, putting the mirror back at his station. “But if it looks terrible, I’ll be back.”

The door opened before Kian could respond, and the two of us looked up as Laura Mae returned with a cute, biracial child on her hip. The only reason I knew it wasn’t hers was because he looked about three years old and was wearing the long shirt that even surrogate children had to wear. Laura Mae only had boys. Still, he was cute with a round face and round eyes that looked very similar to Kian’s own eyes.

“Everyone is getting ready to head to dinner,” Laura Mae said, walking over with the child. He was staring at me, obviously sizing up the new face. I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. “And someone here is very hungry.”

Kian sighed heavily, holding out his arms to the baby. The child reached out to Kian, still watching me as Kian position the child on his own hip.

“He knows he has to wait until dinner properly now,” Kian said half to the kid and half to Laura Mae. “Daddy said no more milk.”

The kid rested his head on Kian’s shoulder, still looking at me. I fidgeted under his blaring gaze.

“He’s like your twin,” Laura Mae laughed. “I’ve never seen a child that quiet.”

“He’s not when his Daddy’s talking to him,” Kian said, sighing again. “Noel, say hi to Andres. He’s new, so you should make him feel welcomed.”

I started to protest that the poor little thing didn’t have to do all that, but the boy promptly opened his mouth and beat me to the punch.

“Hi,” he said, his voice so calm and tiny and cute.

“Hi,” I said back, giving him a small wave. “He’s so cute.”

“Isn’t he?” Laura Mae said, smiling at Noel. “Ugh, I can’t wait until my little one is born. They’re so cute when they’re this small.” Laura Mae turned to me, a pointed look at my flat stomach. “You’ll learn for yourself soon enough!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just an exposition dump, eh? I would apologize, but they are a necessary evil.
> 
> Btw, this all happened the same day as Shiloh's tour. This is sort of what I keep talking about with how SLOW this fucking story is lol. I gotta speed it up. They've literally only been at the Willows like two days. Crazy! 
> 
> I know a lot of Black people, myself included, get defensive when white people want to know about our hair. But lots of people are having biracial children these days! They need to learn about Black hair too! Gotta remember that. Laura Mae means well!
> 
> Ah, someone asked me what Jacob and Serenity were up to job wise. If he's not on the farm, nor in the kitchen, nor at the daycare, what could Andres be about to do? Will the answer surprise you? Fortunately, we'll be finding out next Sunday! Leave guesses down below. I won't say if you're right, but it'll be fun to see what you think. Lol. 
> 
> About next week, guess what it is? My birthday weekend! Gemini gang gang! Can't believe I'm going to be 29! Ahh, the springtime of my youth is now behind me; I now enter the summer of adulthood. That said, I promised a weekend bomb. So on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I will upload a new chapter. And y'all are going to go CRAZY when you read the next two chapters. *I* went crazy when I wrote them. Shit, as the kids say, is about to get REAL. I think you all will enjoy it. And then Sunday's will be a nice easy one to end on. 
> 
> Next thing to note: I mentioned a possible hiatus last week; I'm going to confirm that after next week, I will definitely be taking off the rest of June, and all of July. I'll do a double upload August 1 and 2 (Saturday and Sunday), but I'm not committing to returning to my normal upload schedule then. We'll see how I feel then. 
> 
> I really feel bad doing this AGAIN, especially because I NEVER want to be one of those writers who posts a lot and then disappears. It's really on me; I started posting this I think when I only had like seven or eight chapters written. Even though in your head you think "8 chapters when I post once a week means I can definitely write like 20 chapters in 8 weeks," life doesn't work like that. Last week, for example, I didn't get any writing done. Not to mention with the COVID-19 situation throwing me off months ago, and hitting normal writing blocks, this fucking story has been a mess. And it's also annoying because I have other stories I want to work on, ones I'd like to take seriously and try to get published so I can be an actual published author and reach those goals, that I find myself trying to speed past this story. Which takes the fun out of it, and means I'm not writing quality stuff, which isn't fair to you guys. 
> 
> On top of that, I have to admit, my engagement has been a lot lower than my last story. I want to make it very clear that I love and appreciate all the comments and feedback I get; there's like a solid three of y'all I know I can count on to comment on just about every chapter and y'all make my day every time I see your comments. BUT, even then, this story is getting less hits, less kudos, and less general overall engagement. i think part of it is the content: it's not a continuation of Lucca's story, the setting is different, the subject matter different, etc. I get that. 
> 
> Buuuuut, I honestly think part of it is this weekly upload schedule. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being a consistent hoe. I'm not used to it, so it makes me feel like a real adult and like I'm taking my craft seriously. BUTTTTTTTT, in retrospect, I got upticks in engagement whenever I did my week-long post bombs. And there's no way, as this story is now, I can do those. Even the weekend bombs raise my engagement, and I think it's a matter of if I'm only posting once a week, on a Sunday no less, there are less people to see it when they go hunting in the tags. If I'm posting week long, however, it ups the chances of how many people see the story. And especially if they see it uploading frequently, they're more likely to read and give kudos and follow. 
> 
> I do apologize if it seems superficial, but I also like the post bombs just because they're fun. Weekly uploads are easier to maintain, but post bombs get my energy up! And they're more satisfying! 
> 
> But I do have to be realistic with both my writing goals and my goals with this story. And I don't want to try to rush through this story just so I can move on: the stuff I write here is for fun and practice and enjoyment! So I need to take some time to really work on it and enjoy the process. And so I can return with week-long post dumps lol. 
> 
> You guys have been super understanding with all this, and I really appreciate it. And for those willing to stick with me as I sort through this, y'all the real ones for real! Thank you, and please leave feedback on your thoughts! Even if you're mad at me, let me know!


	26. Chapter 26

I woke up with no idea where I was. It wasn’t my bedroom at home, nor was it the room I shared with Evan at the Willows. My head immediately started pounding, my mouth like cotton. The room I was in was small, obviously a guest room in a bigger house. The walls were blue with old, basic-looking furniture and full-sized bed that I was sprawled on top of. The window above the bed had the curtains pulled back, sunlight spilling into the room in an attempt to blind me.

I frowned, sitting up. Okay, I wasn’t at the Willows. My memory came back to me as I pulled myself fully out of the dreamscape I’d been in. The Willows was done. I was back in Faust City, happily employed and moving forward. In fact, I had started volunteering at the IRRC, and I even went to a group meeting last night. And then afterwards—

“Shit!” I hissed, looking around for my phone.

Last night, I had gone out to the 7th ward with Shawn, a guy from the group. I remember we were bar hopping a bit, ending up at a jazz joint that was a bit rundown and filled mostly with older people wearing suits and Sunday-best dresses dancing to the scatting singer on piano. A man old enough to be my father had been flirting with me, and I flirted back. I remembered Shawn collecting me at that point, saying he needed to get me home before I embarrassed myself. And then I had an embarrassing facetime call with someone. I couldn’t remember who; that’s about where everything goes dark.

I found my phone, frowning at its eleven percent battery charge. I’d texted my mother, telling her I was going to be out all night, and she had followed up last night telling me to let her know where I was in the morning. It was only a little after seven—though that was really way too early with my hangover building—so I quickly texted her that I was going to head straight to work and would see her at home in the evening.

Shawn had also texted me, asking if I was okay. I didn’t remember saving his number, but I wasn’t surprised that happened at some point. I answered him too, my mother saying she would stop by to bring me lunch at work around noon. I smiled, not at all going to point out that I had enough hangovers in my day to manage on my own. I knew she just wanted to baby me a bit since I was going to be moving out soon.

The door opened, and I let out a sigh of relief when Lyle walked in. He was already dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved band shirt, his hair wet from a shower. He had a bottle of water in his hand, and looked a bit surprised to see me up.

“Oh shit,” I said before he could say anything. “Are you the one I facetimed last night?”

Lyle scoffed, tossing the water bottle over to me. I let it bounce on the bed as there was no way I was catching it in this state.

“Yes,” he said, walking over and sitting on the bed, a safe distance away. “I forgot how messy you get when you’re drunk.”

“Uh uh,” I said as I guzzled half the bottle in one go. “Nope. You’ve never seen me properly drunk before.”

“So you weren’t drinking at—”

“Okay, Lyle, no,” I said, holding out my hand. “I really can’t do this back and forth right now. So thank you for coming to rescue me last night, and giving me a place to—is this your Airbnb? Why are you still even in the city? I thought you left by now?”

Lyle rolled his eyes. “You never fucking listen. I leave on Friday.”

“Right,” I said, vaguely remembering that. “This Friday. For a two-week—okay, yeah, got it. Awesome. Thank you again, but I really gotta go. Where are my shoes?”

Lyle sighed. “They’re out by the door, drying.”

“Drying?”

“You got vomit all over them last night.”

I frowned, now feeling horrified. “I puked last night?”

“No, _you_ didn’t. Outside the club was this guy throwing up all over the place, and you just stepped in it. So I threw them in the wash last night and they’re drying.”

“Shit,” I said, thinking. “How am I supposed to get to work without any shoes?”

“You’re going to work today?”

“I have to,” I said, getting up to find my wallet. “I called out the last two days; I can’t afford to do it again. Looks bad.”

“Whoa, Andres, hold up.”

I found my wallet on the dresser and turned around. Lyle was also standing, and I was very much aware that he was right in the way of my path to the door. I felt my magic dancing up my spine. Just in case.

The rational part of me told me Lyle would never make me have to go that far; everything else in me refused to let it be an option.

“Look, just, sit down for a minute,” he said, his voice defeated. “We really need to talk.”

“Was I a real dick last night?” I asked. I had no idea what this could be about. And why now? “We really can’t talk about this later?”

“You propositioned me last night.”

I walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Lyle said, looking lost for a bit before moving to sit on the other edge.

“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “I’m so sorry. I just get really horny when I’m drunk, and—”

“You get drunk a lot these days then, or are you just always horny?”

I blinked, having no idea where that was coming from, especially the attitude alongside the words. I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Excuse you?” I challenged.

“You said some shit, Andres,” Lyle continued, shaking his head. “When we were facetiming. When we were in the cab coming here. When I was trying to get your fucking shoes off before you got into the bed. I’m honestly concerned.”

“What did I say?” I wasn’t in the mood for the cryptic shit. Why couldn’t Lyle just be upfront about whatever this was about?

“You were kinda moaning about Evan,,” Lyle said, not quite meeting my eye. “Going on about how no matter what you do—who you sleep with—it’s like your body can’t forget him. You were going on and on about all the people you’ve been with since coming back, and how you don’t remember any of them. But you remember Evan. And then you said we should do it, to see if that gets him out of your mind.”

Lyle didn’t continue, obviously waiting for my response. I sat there, taking that all in. I didn’t usually get that talkative when I got drunk. This was embarrassing on a level I didn’t even know existed.

“Well,” I said, nodding. “That’s mortifying.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Lyle asked.

“What do you want me to say, Lyle?” I snapped. “I’m sorry that I dumped all that on you. I’m sorry that I asked you to fuck. I can admit that’s not cool. I’m sorry I called you in the middle of the night—”

“None of that is the issue,” Lyle said, shaking his head at me. He looked angry. “I don’t care about any of that.”

“Then what _is_ the problem? I don’t have time to—”

“You said you loved him.”

Lyle was still talking, his words muffled against the sound of rushing water around me. I watched his mouth move, nothing reaching me. It was one thing to think it. To admit it to myself. But I didn’t have the capacity to think of the implications. I was unsure what it all meant. And the idea that I was already speaking aloud made my blood chill.

“…and I’m just concerned,” Lyle was saying when the rushing sound finally faded, “that you’re not—”

My body moved before I had any idea of what I was doing. Lyle was still talking, barely paying attention to what I was doing. He wasn’t expecting it. He didn’t stop talking until I planted my knee on the bed next to him, leaning down and gripping his face, turning it towards me so I could lean down and kiss him.

He finally shut up then, a moan escaping his lips. Or maybe it was a yelp of surprise. Either way, his hands immediately went to my hips, enjoying it for at least four full seconds before he pushed me away. I let him do it, standing and pocketing my wallet and phone.

“I was drunk,” I told him again, keeping my voice quiet. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into it, but it’s really nothing to worry about too much. Now, I need to leave. But if you’re really upset about this, can we please talk about it later? I’ll take you out tonight?”

Lyle let out a heavy breath, obviously not entirely satisfied with that. Still, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, standing. “But no running from it then. We actually talk.”

“You got it,” I said, opening the door and gesturing for him to leave. “Now, can you show me to my shoes please?”

~*~

“I thought you were hungover.”

I smiled as Shawn sat down next to me at the bar. He had just got off from a shift at a restaurant where he was a waiter. As such, he was still in his fitted black pants and button up shirt. He was undoing his tie as he ordered a whisky from the bartender walking by. Last night kept coming to me in spurts, though I easily remembered that Shawn could hold his liquor. In fact, I was pretty sure trying to keep up with him was part of the reason _I_ got so fucked up.

“I’m very hung over,” I said, lifting up the rum and coke I’d been nursing while I waited for him. “I just can’t stay long. I have a date.”

“Awww,” Shawn said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lifted one up, a polite offer, and I shook my head. He took one out and brought it to his lips. “That’s rude, you know. You’re throwing off my plans for the night.”

“What plans?” I asked innocently, watching Shawn light his cigarette with a deep inhale.

His eyes watched me, blowing out the smoke expertly before fixing a coy smile.

“Depends, really,” he said, almost as innocently. However, his next words were straight to the point. “Do you top or bottom?”

I really smiled at that: as much as I loved flirting, there was something very attractive about people being upfront with what they wanted.

“Now _that’s_ rude,” I said, since he was the one who played his hand. “Do I really look like someone who enjoys being on top?”

Shawn laughed at that, ignoring the glare from a girl who came up behind us to order. Her eyes were on Shawn’s cigarette, but this was a smoking bar; she was in the wrong place if she wasn’t cool it.

“That’s convenient,” Shawn said, putting his cigarette down at the nearby ashtray so he could take a swing of his drink. “I don’t bottom.”

That surprised me a bit. “Really?”

“Really. Should I be insulted you’re surprised?”

I shrugged. “Since you’re such a sensitive _artiste_ , I thought you’d long to be ravished.”

Shawn shook his head. “Nope. I like doing the ravishing.”

I glanced at my phone, keeping an eye on the time. It would take me a little over half an hour to get back to the French Quarter for dinner with Lyle.

“He leaves tomorrow,” I said, sipping my drink.

“I work my long shifts on weekends,” Shawn said, finishing his cigarette and putting it out. “Though if you’re free on Sunday, I know a studio that’s probably going to be empty all day.”

“Probably?”

“I’m, like, ninety-ish percent sure it’ll be empty all day.”

I really smiled at that. “Nintey-ish?”

“Nintey-five percent.”

I reached into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet. I found a twenty-dollar bill to cover mine and his first drink before sliding off the bar stool.

“I would have settled for seventy,” I told him. “And thanks for looking out for me last night.”

“Of course. How could I eventually get in your pants if something happened to you?”

I laughed. From what I could remember from the night before, Shawn was a good time. I would love to spend more time with him sober.

“Save the dirty talk for Sunday,” I told him. “Text me the address and time.”

The bartender replaced Shawn’s drink, and Shawn immediately lifted it up in cheers.

“Tell your date I said hi.”

“You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you.”

“He should know what you were willing to skip out on to be with him.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. I told Shawn that, and I left him at the bar. I walked down the street to the corner where there was a bus stop. I would have to get a bunch of transfers if I tried taking a bus to the French Quarter, for some reason. So I ordered a rideshare and waited. There was a woman in a long, brown coat standing on the other side of the bench, handing out Christian pamphlets to anyone passing by.

“The Lord loves you,” she said to a couple who ignored her. “He calls on us to serve Him devotedly in times like these!”

It was hard to ignore her: she was loud. Her words echoed around, bouncing off the street and buildings. Most of it was about God’s love, though there was a bit of her declaring it was important for people to start serving as quickly as possible. I was happy when my ride arrived, and I shut the door on her shit.

Despite a bit of traffic, I was at the restaurant ten minutes before the reservation. I waited outside, my hands in my jacket pocket as I fidgeted with the blunt my father had given me earlier. After work, I made a beeline home so I could properly shower and prepare for my date. My mother wasn’t home yet, but my father had been in the kitchen cooking, smoking after what had likely been a long day.

After he lightly scolded me for letting my mother know so late that I wasn’t coming home, he offered me a hit off the blunt he’d gotten from his friend right after work. My father didn’t smoke often, but he cooked his best stuff when he did. I was sad I was going to miss it: even high-end French cuisine couldn’t match my father’s dirty rice and sautéed catfish.

We sat down and talked for a few minutes, my father asking when he could see the house I was positive I was going to put an offer on. We made plans for the weekend, and he handed me the extra blunt he swore he didn’t get just for me. I knew him long enough to know that he did. It was a bit we had to do for my mother’s sake: she didn’t mind us smoking a little, but she drew the line at the idea that my own father was my primary supplier.

Since I had to rush out of the house after that, I had simply pocketed the blunt, but as I waited for Lyle, I thought about taking a few hits to calm my nerves. However this conversation was about to go, I just wasn’t in the mood for it.

Still, I had promised Lyle. On top of that, in the two weeks Lyle had been in town, I honestly hadn’t spent quite that much time with him. And considering that he came all this way just for me, I felt like a bit of a jerk for it. The least I could do was take him out to eat somewhere nice before he was gone.

Probably forever.

“Wow. You clean up nice enough.”

I rolled my eyes as I turned to see Lyle walk up. He was wearing khaki pants and a nice button up that he had tucked in all proper like. He’d been smart enough to not wear a tie, and even left his piercings out.

“Not so bad yourself, Chen” I said, making no secret that I was checking him out. “People are going to think we’re on a real date.”

“Shut up,” Lyle said, not able to hide his smile. He gestured to the restaurant. “This the place?”

“Yup,” I said, heading to the door and opening it for him. “Figured I owed you at least one fancy dinner.”

The restaurant wasn’t quite as full as it would have been a couple of hours earlier. It was mostly couples wrapping up their dinners, and I was happy I agreed to a later meal. Lyle said he was cool with it: he’d spent the day packing, and planned on sleeping in late tomorrow since his flight wasn’t until the afternoon. And since his sister had flown back last weekend, it meant he could be out as late as possible.

I ordered a bottle of wine, a ten-year vintage pinot noir, which Lyle seemed to like enough. We ordered our meals, skipping the appetizers for the main course. Lyle made a few remarks at how shocked he was to see how comfortable I looked in a restaurant like this. I feigned offense, letting him know I knew how to dine outside of a bar.

“Sure,” he said, tasting his boeuf bourguignon. He let out a little hum, obviously liking it. “You probably don’t even know how to pronounce this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I forgot you Canadians are the French experts.”

“I noticed a lot of improper French while I’ve been exploring the city,” Lyle said, defending himself. “Just saying.”

“Because it’s not French. It’s French _Creole_. It’s a dialect.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“What’s that? You’ve been told something over and over again and you still can’t retain it? I guess some things really don’t change.”

Lyle shook his head, taking a sip of his wine. The couple at the table closest to us had finally paid their check and left. I watched them from the corner of my eye, very much aware that Lyle and I were now alone in one corner of the restaurant. No one was around to hear us. I finished off my own glass of wine, refilling it as I regretted my choices.

“Look,” Lyle said, obviously ready to start talking in earnest. “I gave it some thought while I was packing today, and this doesn’t have to be some difficult conversation.”

I kept my wine glass in front of my lips, readily available for me to sip. I didn’t say anything: I just waited.

“It did scare me, though, when you said you loved him,” Lyle continued when it was obvious I was going to let him lead this. “All those articles came rushing to my head where they wondered if you did and—I just got nervous that maybe there was some truth to them. And you seem fine, but if that’s the truth, that you love him, then I thought maybe you would disappear again. Back to him.”

I put my glass down, unsure how to even respond to that.

“Lyle—”

“But then I realized that it’s not that simple,” Lyle continued, fidgeting with his own wine glass. “I’m not a psychologist, but most of us understand the basics, right? If it were that simple for you, you would have gone back to him a while ago. So it’s obvious you don’t want to go back.

“But whatever relationship you built with him isn’t going to go away. For better or for worse, he was, technically, your husband. And you spent some time thinking of him as such. And I came here to help you. No strings attached. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it, but freaking out over it isn’t going to help you.”

“You know,” I said, fingering the rim of my wine glass, “you’re making it real hard for me to be sarcastic about this when you’re acting so level-headed.”

“You can stand to lose a bit of sarcasm.”

I nodded, mulling his words over as he tackled more of his food. The thought of going back to the Willows made my blood go cold. I couldn’t think of a worse hell. I couldn’t go back there, especially not as Evan’s wife. Especially not if he has to replace his father, and me his mother.

I definitely couldn’t go back without being pregnant.

“If I’m being honest,” I said, tapping the table, my own food forgotten. “It’s really the Willows I hate. Not Evan.”

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded. “I do. And I feel wrong for admitting that. For feeling that way. Like there’s something wrong with me. And I know there’s all these reasons to explain it. Like, my therapist said it’s trauma bonding or whatever, like it’s not real, but it’s not _not_ real. How I feel about Evan is real.”

Lyle didn’t respond, and I took a long sip of wine in the silence. It was Lyle’s fault, anyway. He started this conversation. He wanted it. So he was going to have to deal with having it. He was going to get the full truth whether he wanted it or not.

“I don’t remember all I said,” I admitted, shrugging. “But that might be why, yeah, I’ve been a bit of a hoe since I got back. And it’s fun, most of the time, but even that gets to me after a while. Like, I get tired from it.”

“You don’t have to sleep with people if you don’t want to,” Lyle said.

It was the stupidest thing he could have said, so I gave him a look to let him know how stupid it was.

“I _know_ that. Unlike you, I’m not sexually repressed. I like sex. I like dating. It’s fun. I like to do it as often as I can. I’m just getting tired of the whole _production_ of it.”

Lyle chuckled at that, and I could tell he still wasn’t getting it. “The production?”

“Yes. The whole thing is exhausting. Finding someone you like, hoping you bump into a cute guy at the bar, or scrolling through all the dating app profiles to match with someone. Then you have to take them out, chat them up. Get to know them. And I like getting to meet new people, but how many people am I supposed to _know_?”

“So you’re tired of the actual dating process,” Lyle said, obviously thinking about it.

“Yes! That’s it. It’s exhausting. And I didn’t have to do that at the Willows. Evan was it for me. He was my husband, and we had sex almost every single night—”

“Wow, okay, I don’t—”

“And it wasn’t like I _knew_ him. So I was kind of dating him. Getting to know him. You know? And on top of that, Evan was—” I cut myself off, suddenly feeling lost. Empty. Like something was missing. “Evan was my _future_. I was supposed to have children with him. I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with him. Evan was supposed to be my everything.”

I shook my head, finishing off my wine. Lyle did the same, and it was obvious that this was hard for both of us. I flagged down our waiter, asking for another bottle. Because fuck it: we deserved it.

“You’ve been doing this a lot longer than me,” Lyle said, shrugging. “I guess it’s all new and exciting for me, but you’re at that age where you’re ready to settle down.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” I said, frowning. “It makes me sound domesticated.”

“You’re buying a house.”

“Okay, maybe I am a bit domesticated.”

We waited until the waiter returned with our second bottle, refilling both of our glasses. Everything was spinning a bit, meaning I needed to slow down.

“I guess I am domesticated,” I said after Lyle took another long sip. “With Evan, nothing else mattered. It was going to end with him, you know? It didn’t matter if we weren’t sexually compatible, or if he never listened to me, or if we didn’t get along. I didn’t have a choice: we had to make it work.

“And it’s weird dating after that. It’s weird hitting it off with guys only for them to never call me back. And the ones who do only want something casual. I don’t know, with Evan, I had someone to go home with at night. I had someone to wake up with every morning. I had someone who was able to love me.”

“Andres—”

“And he did love me. He swears he still does.” I shook my head. I didn’t know how he could after I left him, but Evan was a man of his word. I learned _that_ quickly if I didn’t learn anything else about him. “He told me that the last time I saw him: that he loves me.”

“And you believe him?” Lyle asked. He sounded confused.

I nodded, taking a swig from my glass. “Evan doesn’t lie. Especially not about that.”

“You can find love here, Andres,” Lyle said, his voice gentle. “Anywhere, really. It doesn’t have to be him.”

I shrugged. “I think I’m difficult to love. I push people away by being snarky; they think I’m not serious. And Evan doesn’t let me do that. I couldn’t at the Willows, but even now, all this fighting and court—”

“He’s not the only one who will fight for you.”

I sighed. “It’s not just that, Lyle. Evan—”

“Andres, do you seriously not see how much I love you?”

I came up short, not expecting that. My heart started racing, my blood pumping through me in a panic. I was not expecting that. At all.

“Lyle,” I said, my words coming out like a warning. “Don’t. You’re not—”

“I’m sorry, Andres,” Lyle said, shaking his head. His eyes were a bit red, like he was fighting off tears. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just sit here and listen to this like that mother—like _he_ is the only one who loves you. Not when I’m right here.

“And I know I said I wasn’t expecting anything, Andres. And I’m not. Not at all. But I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I wasn’t at least hoping for _something_. But I never wanted to push or force anything: I wanted to give you your space.”

“Lyle—”

“And it doesn’t even have to be me. It can be anyone, Andres. It can be whoever you’ll meet tomorrow, or that Shawn guy—”

“You met Shawn?”

“Yeah. He helped you into the cab when I came to get you last night. I mean, he seemed cool, but my point is it doesn’t have to be me. It can be anyone. But it sure as hell doesn’t have to be _him_. You have options, Andres. He does not have to be the future you settle with.”

He stopped with a heavy breath, immediately bringing his wine glass to his lips before he had a chance to feel too embarrassed. Meanwhile, I thought about what he was saying. Was I settling? There was a difference between wanting to settle down and settling. I didn’t have to settle for Evan, right? Surely there was someone else I could fall in love with. I’d done it before Evan; what was stopping me from doing it after him?

I noticed Lyle moving to refill his glass, and I reached out to grab his hand.

“Don’t,” I said, flagging down the waiter. “Can we get all this wrapped up? And the check please?”

“Of course,” the waiter said, grabbing the wine. “Would you like another bottle to take home? We—”

“Sure, thank you,” I interrupted, smiling at the waiter until he left.

“What was that about?” Lyle asked.

“I want to go back to your place,” I said, taking out my phone. It wasn’t even ten yet; my mother wouldn’t get mad at me texting her now that I wasn’t going to be home.

“Why?”

“To play chess. Why do you think, Lyle?”

The waiter returned with the check, and I reached into my pocket for my wallet. I handed him my credit card and when he disappeared again, Lyle seemed to be catching onto what was happening.

“Oh, Andres,” he said, looking a bit shy. “We don’t have to. I didn’t say all that just to get in your pants.”

“Well, it worked anyway. Unless you really don’t want to?”

“Of course I do,” Lyle said, then seemed to realize how enthusiastic he sounded. “I mean, as long as you’re cool with it.”

“Peachy,” I said, taking my card back when the waiter returned with it. I glanced at the total to see how much I should leave for a tip.

“Let me cover the tip,” Lyle was saying, taking out his own wallet. “How much—”

“Oh, that’s cute,” I said, taking his money and tossing it back at him while I took out a few twenties from my own wallet and making sure Lyle didn’t see how much. “That’s a real subtle way to try to figure out how much the meal cost.”

“I’m not—I mean, I wasn’t—”

“Sure. Thank you,” I added to the waiter when he returned with a large bag filled with our leftovers and bottle of wine.

When we hit the streets, there were party-goers all around enjoying the city at night. The French Quarter was especially annoying at night with street musicians playing jazzy tunes for the drunk tourists to dance to. The good thing was that there were plenty of street vendors and food shops still open, and as Lyle and I headed to his Airbnb—because of course he got one at the edge of the French Quarter—I looked for a place to get some sort of desert. Something told me that we’d need the sugar before the night was out.

I saw a woman and young boy attempting to hand out flyers. They were both wearing long, brown jackets. The jacket covered the woman’s dress, but not the white pants the boy was wearing. I frowned as we got closer to them, Lyle distracted by dancers trying to hand out beads despite Mardi Gras being long over.

“…in the grace of the Eden God wanted for us. The Church of Eden’s Willows—”

“The fuck?” I muttered as we passed them, their words dying in the noise of the crowd.

“Whoa! Andres, watch it!”

I turned around just in time to bump into someone. I started to apologize, feeling whoever I ran into grip my arms to steady me. I froze, however, when my eyes saw hazel.

“ _Mi sol_ ,” Evan said, his face looking surprised to see me.

My heart, and everything stopped around me as I looked up at him. I’d been looking forward to spending the rest of the night with Lyle, not thinking about Evan for once. And yet here he was, suddenly right in front of me. Touching me. Holding me.

Speak his name and the devil appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Part one of this weekend's post bomb! I'm so excited. I don't know why; it's not like I can do anything special for my birthday. Thus why I'm doing this! Lol. 
> 
> But yes, exciting. 
> 
> This is a long chapter. Of course Evan is still in the city, trying to get his wife back. But I was kinda excited about Andres and Lyle. I'm really rooting for them! Sure would be a shame to fuck it up. Ah, the joys of being a writer. 
> 
> Lyle is typically very reserved. Being open is new for him, but he's doing a great job. Andres is used to being able to tip-toe around him, so Lyle forcing him to be open is disarming. It's a fun dynamic imo.
> 
> Still, I don't think Lyle is being completely honest with himself: he must have really hoped for something to develop between him and Andres. Despite all his strides, old habits are hard to break! Good thing Andres is more straightforward about what he wants. We'll be seeing more of that tomorrow too. :3
> 
> Not a lot of life updates except for my birthday is tomorrow! I still haven't written my 30 before 30 list. I doubt I'd get done everything I want to do, but it would be fun to try to check off as much as I can before I turn, wait for it, 30 next year! Lol. 
> 
> I wanted to really go crazy this year since it's my last 20-something birthday. But damn Corona. Ugh. Let that be a lesson to always do things NOW because nothing in the future is guaranteed lol. But I'm still going to make it a nice one! 
> 
> I will be back tomorrow with part two. I will only accept birthday wishes then lol. But if you want to leave other comments, please do! Thank you!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter to Ekla96cf who is also celebrating their birthday today! Happy Birthday my fellow Gemini twin!

“He’s fine. You can let him go.”

Lyle’s words snapped me out of my stupor. I hadn’t expected to see Evan in the city. Not like this. Not in the middle of a busy street with people loudly jumping from one party to the next. I swallowed, unable to take my eyes off of him. But his eyes moved to take in Lyle.

“Are you a friend?” Evan asked him, his voice a warning despite how polite his smile was. “I know Andres. He’s actually my—”

“I know who you are,” Lyle snapped, pulling me from Evan’s grasp. I felt like I could properly breath now. “I said he’s fine.”

“Who are you?” Josh said from Evan’s side. His glare at Lyle was actually kind of scary. “None of this concerns you.”

Seeing Evan was jarring enough, but Josh was here too? That really wasn’t good. Josh, I eventually found out, was one of the political lawyers the Willows had. He dealt a lot with the lobbying within the Nation, but he was also good at smoothing over international issues whenever someone from another country went missing and wound up in the Willows. He was the reason my family couldn’t do anything when they learned where I had gone.

They were both in the Willow’s white, pamphlets in their hands. Josh’s dark eyes found mine, and I froze under his scrutinizing gaze. He looked me up and down, frowning at my appearance. I struggled to gain Josh’s approval even at the Willows. I wasn’t surprised he disapproved of me now.

“Someone is enjoying his temporary freedom,” he said, the threat there way too obvious.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, finally finding my voice. I could have figured out how to deal with Evan, but I felt completely helpless with Josh here too. If this got physical, heads were going to roll.

Josh looked me in the eyes, unblinking as he answered.

“Evan’s affection for you prevents him from handling you properly. I have no such reservations.”

“Let’s go,” Lyle said, grabbing my hand to guide me away. “You don’t have to put up with this.” 

“Excuse you,” Josh said, moving to grip the underside of my other arm. I winced, grateful that Lyle immediately stopped tugging. “This is a domestic dispute. You need to stay out of it.”

“Who the fu—”

“You both need to let him go,” Evan said suddenly, his voice hard. “You’re making Andres anxious with all this.”

I suddenly became aware of how tight everyone’s grip on me was. Josh let go first, and only then did Lyle relent. Evan took the hand Lyle had let go of, and held it while he rummaged through his pocket with his other hand. I could feel Josh and Lyle watching, anxious and waiting for some sort of ball to drop. I had no idea what Evan was planning, but I was sure no one was going to be happy about it.

He pulled something out of his hand, moving it into my palm before anyone could see it. He leaned down, kissing me on my forehead.

“I’m not leaving the city until I can leave with you, _mi sol_ ,” he said quietly so the others couldn’t hear. “I love you. Reach out to me when you’re ready. _Before_ this turns ugly.”

Evan straightened up, letting me go, and headed back down the street where the woman and boy had stopped hassling people to watch us. Josh scoffed before following, obviously not happy.

“I didn’t think he’d still be in the city,” Lyle murmured. We both turned, heading down the street, our steps slower. “I guess for all the legal stuff, but what was he doing out here?”

As we walked, I opened my hand, looking at what Evan had given me. There was a white card—a business card—and a bracelet on top. The bracelet looked like a medical bracelet, the tag blue with sigils engraved on it instead of medical information. I felt my heart drop as I stopped, dropping it on the ground and crushing it under my heel.

Lyle noticed me stop and came back around, looking concerned.

“What was it?” he asked as I looked at the card.

“Bullshit,” I said, frowning.

The card was for the Church of Eden’s Willows. The Faust City branch. The Willows had a church right here in the city. Right in the French Quarter. I never knew this. I never suspected it. Kian’s words from a lifetime ago rang in my ear.

_We have a sister church not far off._

“Andres,” Lyle said, sounding concerned. “What—”

“He’s just fucking with me,” I said. “No biggie. Let’s go back to your place. All this food is heavy.”

“I can call a cab or something,” Lyle offered. “I’m sure all of that killed your mood.”

I scoffed. “Seeing him honestly makes me want to fuck you more. Especially after your knight in shining armor routine.”

Lyle lamented that he hadn’t done much, while I reassured him how safe I felt with him being there. It was a lie: with Josh there, I knew that the best chance I would have had at fighting them off would be using my magic. But Evan had magic too, so I have no idea how that would have ended.

Still, I wanted to get laid. And I wanted Lyle to do it. So I tossed the business card to the ground, not thinking about it once it was out of sight.

I didn’t need it: I’d already committed the address to memory.

~*~

“Did you clean?” I asked, looking around the townhouse properly. I didn’t have time to look at it when I was in it earlier, but it looked neater.

Lyle shrugged, putting the food and wine in the fridge. “I wasn’t going to leave it a mess. They’d probably try to charge me extra for it.”

I sat at the kitchen table, smelling lemon. I opened up a bag of gummy worms we’d picked up at a drugstore down the street. Because Lyle was too embarrassed to just leave with a box of condoms, and I hadn’t found anything sweet that I wanted at any of the vendors we’d passed on the way. Granted, after the confrontation with Evan, I hadn’t been looking that hard.

“Smells like you cleaned from top to bottom,” I said, watching as Lyle leaned against the table. “Fly back in right before I move into my new house: you can clean it for me.”

“You mean I can _help_ you clean it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yeah, I know it’s not,” Lyle said, rolling his eyes.

There was a pause while I picked up a new gummy worm, stretching it in my fingers. I could feel Lyle’s hesitation, and he knew me well enough to know how long I could play this game with him. I’d done it for years with him previously. He knew why I was there. He knew I had no plans to go home. I’d already stated what I wanted numerous times. There was a box of condoms on the table between us.

If he wanted this too, he needed to make the first move.

“I know you didn’t come here just to eat gummy worms,” Lyle said, his voice low and heavy.

There it was.

“No,” I said, smiling as the candy snapped in my fingers. “Not gummy ones anyway.”

Lyle moved, grabbing the box of condoms before taking my hand. The candy fell to the ground, and I would have felt bad for it if I wasn’t focused on Lyle’s possessive grip and the way he led me to the out of the kitchen, to the stairs.

I wanted to tease him; say something sarcastic to drive him crazy. But I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I took charge the last time Lyle and I did this: it was exciting to see him lead the way this time.

We quickly found the bedroom, and Lyle stopped long enough to toss the condoms on the bed before turning to me. I did start to say something then, but all my words left me when Lyle pulled me into a kiss. He surprised me, his lips soft yet insistent, his tongue confident. I remembered what he told me about his own trysts after coming out. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper.

Shy and unsure Lyle was cute, but I had to admit I liked the experienced and cool Lyle better.

Lyle moved us, forcing me to walk back as he took off my jacket and shirt. Our kiss only broke when he lifted my shirt over my head, and I took the moment to gulp down some air before we were back at it again. My heart was racing with excitement, and I moved to help Lyle out of his own shirt.

My legs hit the side of the bed, however, and with a small push from Lyle, I fell back on the mattress. I laughed, not used to being that unaware of my surroundings. Lyle finished tearing his shirt off, tossing it on the floor before leaning down and climbing on top of me.

Like this, everything melted away. All I could think about was Lyle on top of me, Lyle touching me, Lyle’s fingers leaving trails of heat down my chest. I wanted him closer, and I pulled and tugged at his body, undoing his pants—and mine—just so we could be closer. I zoned out, lost in his kisses, lost in him.

I wasn’t aware of how close we were until I felt his dick against mine. Lyle moaned in my mouth, his hips humping mine in small, desperate movements. I leaned against him, shifting my weight before pushing up and rolling us over. Lyle gave an adorable yelp in surprise, and I gave him a quick kiss in apology before sliding down between his legs.

His dick was quickly hardening, so I took it in my hands, messaging it gently for a bit. Lyle let his head fall back, moaning at the attention. I found the box of condoms, ripping them open and pulling one out. I should put one on before this part, but I didn’t want to. There was only three, and I had every intention of coming more than once before morning.

I moved, adjusting my position, and leaning over, swallowing Lyle until he hit my throat. Lyle really started making noises then, a hand finding the back of my head. He wasn’t rude enough to push, just there as a nice pressure while I went to town. I closed my eyes and focused, tasting Lyle fully, sucking him greedily.

“Shit,” Lyle moaned at one point, his voice breathless. “I forgot how good you were at that.”

Just to prove his point, I took him even deeper until my nose was buried in his groin. When I came up for air, he was leaking and even harder. If I wasn’t already soaking wet myself, I’d keep going until he came. But I was done waiting: I was always waiting for Lyle. Now, I just wanted him in me.

So I undid the condom, sitting up so I could properly put it on. Lyle took the reprieve to catch his breath, watching me with half lidded eyes. Our eyes met after I was finished, and Lyle moved fast like a viper then, grabbing me and pulling me into his lap. His lips were on mine again, and my stomach felt warm as we kissed again. He moved us to the head of the bed, his back against the headboard.

I smiled through the kiss: he still remembered my favorite position.

We both moved and fidgeted, until I was kneeling above him, both of our hands trying to guide him inside.

“Say it again,” I ordered, throwing my hands on the top of the headboard behind him when I felt his dick finally find its mark.

“Say what?” Lyle breathed, distracted.

“What you told me at the restaurant. How you felt about me.”

Lyle smiled, his dick sliding inside me easily. I let out a moan as he kissed my neck, my thighs settling against his.

“I love you.”

I kissed him, deeply as I moved my hips in circles. Lyle’s hands came up my back, tracing light scratches as I picked up the pace.

“I love you,” he repeated between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

It was like a floodgate; once it was said, there was no taking back. And I welcomed how his love overwhelmed me, excited me, energized me. Here he was, holding me and fucking me and loving me. In this moment, Evan was a distant memory: Lyle was the present. He was here. He was my now.

“Stay with me,” I told him, my voice a whisper. The words felt foreign on my lips.

Lyle let out a chuckle, his eyes closed as he moved his hips to match my pace.

“I have a job too you know,” he said, not understanding what I was asking him. “As much as I’d love to do this all day, every—”

“No,” I said, grabbing his face. He opened his eyes, meeting mine. “Stay with me. Be with me. I don’t care if it’s long-distance, and how many times I have to go to Canada. Everything else we can figure out later. But…”

My voice trailed off as my hips stopped. This wasn’t like me. It wasn’t the way I did things. Not since I was young, and a few bad breakups left me jaded. I didn’t ask for people to stay. I didn’t ask for a serious relationship. I sure as hell didn’t do the long-distance thing.

But I did want Lyle to stick around. I wanted the guy who was willing to travel over a thousand miles to see me after realizing I was alive. I wanted the guy who drug his sister with him, and used her connections to help me with my case. I wanted the guy who was willing to come out because of me, and live his truth in my memory. I wanted the guy who wasn’t afraid to tell me he loved me, even if my therapist probably wasn’t going to like this.

I wanted Lyle.

Lyle met my gaze, his arm around my waist tightening. I could see him searching for the punchline; waiting for the other shoe to drop. For me to say I was lying. Something.

“You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question. “Are you sure?” That one was.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t,” I told him, my stomach tightening in anxiety. Would he say no?

“I don’t—” he cut himself off, searching for words. Or maybe the right ones. He shook his head. “I know you’re upset over seeing _him_. I just don’t want this—us. I don’t want us to be about him.”

“Do you remember,” I said, settling on his dick, because of course Lyle was going to turn this into a thing. “Do you remember after we got kicked out of that bar in Tokyo—”

“Which we’re admitting was _your_ fault,” Lyle stressed.

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, killer. Anyway, we were walking around looking for a 7-Eleven, and you were so mad and bitching about why I felt the need to flirt with any guy I could. And I told you about that big evil ex I had in my undergrad?”

“Vaguely. I more so remember the bento sets and rice balls we binged on.”

“If I’m dry by the end of this conversation, I’m hopping off and going home,” I warned him.

Lyle sighed, adjusting us both so he was more upright. He gave a few calculated hip rolls before settling, my face heating up at how nice that felt.

“Continue,” he said with a pointed look.

“You’re a bit _too_ confident now,” I said, rolling my eyes. “My point is that I was a kid when that happened. Like, literally not-even-legal-yet kid. And when I tried to date afterwards, I would see signs of how he strung me along with other guys. So I stopped playing into it. I cut off my emotions and became a flirt so I could find, basically, fuck buddies than an actual partner.”

“Okay…” Lyle said, still not getting where I was going.

“I’m saying I can’t say that,” I all but snapped at him. God, for someone who liked to pretend he was smarter than me, Lyle was dense as a rock. “Just like the big evil ex, Evan is a part of me. And I can’t pretend that seeing him, especially after tonight, means that this decision has nothing to do with him. But it’s still my decision.”

“Even though you still love him?” Lyle asked.

I let out a heavy sigh. “I loved the big evil ex after he broke my heart. And sitting around thinking about Evan and what all I had with him isn’t going to help me get over him. Which is what I want to do, by the way. I want to get over him. I want to move on. And…” I hesitated. God, the amount of vulnerability I’d been displaying recently was disgusting. “And I want to move on with you.”

Lyle’s breath started, and he looked at me as if in shock. His lack of an answer was making me more and more anxious as time ticked by. Had I made a mistake? Maybe Lyle didn’t want this at all and h—

Lyle pulled me into a kiss and out of my thoughts. He flipped us on the bed, thrusting into me with a fierceness that made me feel blissfully helpless underneath him.

“My answer is ‘yes,’ of course,” he breathed in my ear as he fucked me. “But only if you say it again.”

“Shit,” I huffed. Lyle was hitting me deeper, and hitting the mark. “You suck.”

“I did it when you asked.”

He had. And so in the name of fairness, I did it too.

“Stay with me,” I repeated, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.”

And there it was again: everything fading away until there was nothing but us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh. 
> 
> I really am not confident with sex scenes lol. Idk, how do you write them without feeling like you're a voyeur, invading someone's privacy? Hmmmm. 
> 
> Either way, hope you all enjoyed. Before anyone asks, Andres literally just froze when he saw Evan. He forgot about his magic, and couldn't really react properly. It was easier with the mediation meetings because he could prepare to see Evan. But Evan just appearing like that really threw him off. 
> 
> At least he still got laid! Lol. 
> 
> I don't have much to say because it's my birthday, and I had a nice fun day, and I'm tired and ready to cuddle in bed watching a movie and ending my day off with nicely. :3
> 
> Remember, we're back at the Willows next week. I think it's a good place to break. 
> 
> I am now accepting birthday wishes lol. Or just comments in general. Happy Saturday! See you all tomorrow!


	28. Chapter 28

There was a young woman who sat as close to the head of the table as was allowed. After the deacons’ wives, and the older women who often sat right after them. In reality, she was more towards the middle of the table, at the head of the young wives and mothers struggling with their first children. But her blue eyes stayed focused at the head, where the deacons’ wives sat across from their husbands and spoke only among themselves.

“She’s looking at _them_ ,” I told Serenity across from me. “She’s not even looking our way.”

“Not now,” Serenity said, finishing off her plate of eggs. “Especially not with you staring at her. She was eyeing you down at dinner yesterday.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to my food. Serenity was certain that girl, whoever she was, had been glaring daggers at me at dinner. I hadn’t noticed it. Evan sat next to the deacons at dinner, leaving me to find my own crew. I was surprised that I wasn’t expected to sit next to him at all times, but Serenity said she heard that it’s really important meals and events where it’s necessary. That was why Mike had also sat near the head of the table, across from Evan and Josh, listening to the deacons intently.

It wasn’t until we were finally allowed to retire to our own house that night that Serenity mentioned the girl. She was around our age—or, Serenity noted with a shrug, her age—and obviously childless. Which was odd. She had tawny skin and long, chestnut hair that almost hit her hips. Her blue eyes were icy, both in color and how she seemed to watch people with a coolness and air as if she didn’t belong among us.

“Who is she?” I asked when it became apparent that the girl’s attention wasn’t on us this morning. “Did you find that out?”

“No. A lot of the women introduced themselves to me yesterday. At least the moms since I’m stuck at the daycare.” Serenity, I quickly learned, had been placed at the daycare to help mind the small children during the day. Jacob had been put on kitchen duty, which was why he was absent breakfast. “But she hasn’t come up and said anything. I didn’t notice her until lunch yesterday. She was glaring at you then too.”

“So she hates me and we don’t know why,” I said, sighing. “I need this like I need a heart attack.”

The person next to me stood up suddenly, catching my attention. He was tapping the shoulder of some other schoolboys his age, and they all started to get up so they could go catch the bus that came for them. When I turned back around, Evan was sitting next there, scaring the shit out of me. He even had the nerve to laugh as I held a hand over my heart, trying to still it.

“Sorry,” he said between chuckles, not sounding sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I met Serenity’s eyes, who kept her face clear of any emotion with Evan around.

“Poor thing,” Evan mused, kissing me on my cheek. “I’m getting ready to go, but I wanted to give you something first. Here.”

I looked down, seeing him hold what looked like a medical bracelet. Only the tag was a blue color and had sigils on it instead of medical information. I’d never seen them before, and with my magic suppressed, I couldn’t try to read the magic surrounding it to gauge what it did.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A suppressor,” he said, gesturing to the gold bangles that had never left my wrist since I arrived at the Willows. “To replace these.”

I let out a quick sigh, holding out my wrist for him to put it on. He did, securing it tightly as an odd pulse turned my stomach. Evan removed the old bangles, smiling. He must have used magic to take t hem off because no amount of tugging on my hand had worked. The bracelet likely operated the same way.

Dammit.

“Much better, isn’t it?”

I nodded, turning it on my wrist. “Yes. Thank you.”

Evan’s smile grew and he gave me a kiss, this time on the lips.

“Remember you’re with Mrs. Nydia today,” he said before standing. “Be good, okay?”

I nodded before belatedly remembering that I was supposed to wish him off.

“Have a good day.”

“Thank you, _mi sol_. You too.”

And with another kiss, Evan was gone. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his absence. It was nice that wives and husbands seemed to spend most of the days separate from each other. Serenity sipped at a glass of orange juice, watching me.

“You’re good at that,” she said.

“At what?” I asked, frowning.

“Submitting. Being good in front of him.”

I shrugged. “You’ve been good too.”

“Maybe,” Serenity said. “It’s hard when we’re in bed, though. She’s really aggressive then.”

That surprised me. “Really? She wasn’t that way at the wedding ceremony.”

“I know. I don’t know if maybe it was because there was a crowd then, but she’s really rough with me. Maybe she thinks that’s how guys are, but—”

“Serenity,” Mike said, sliding in at the seat next to her. Serenity pulled a sweet smile on her face. “I’m heading out. I’ll be back for lunch today.”

Serenity nodded, accepting a kiss from Mike before she got up and walked away, heading towards the car lot. Serenity watched her for a bit before turning to me, a bit of panic in her eyes.

“Do you think she heard me?” she asked, her voice low.

I shrugged. “Probably not. She didn’t say anything.”

“Would she? I shouldn’t have said the bit about how guys are.”

Before I could answer, I saw Mrs. Nydia came up, nodding at us.

“’Morning,” she said. “Andres, are you finished eating?”

I had just eaten my last bite, so I nodded.

“Good,” she said, pointing over to the side of buildings where the daycare was. “Take your vitamins and come over to that green building on the other side of the daycare. We’ll get started.”

Without another word, she moved, heading over to the building herself.

“You have to work with _her_?” Serenity asked, looking sorry for me.

“Yeah,” I said, frowning.

“What does she do?”

I paused. “You know what? I don’t even know.”

~*~

I couldn’t move. I stared at the small sign outside the small green building. _Birthing Center_ , it read. A birthing center. Why on earth did I have to come here to work? What did “birthing center” even mean? Was someone giving birth right now? Was I supposed to help with that?

Just because I was a doctor didn’t mean I knew anything about obstetrics. Even when my cousins gave birth, I had stayed away with the rest of the men in my family, waiting until we heard the baby crying before daring to venture inside. Sure, I knew the mechanics of it, but I had zero experience with it.

“Andres?”

I turned, watching Zeke walk up with the girl Serenity had pointed out at breakfast. While Zeke smiled, the girl looked like I had threatened to steal her firstborn child.

“’Morning,” I said politely as they stopped in front of me. “You work here?”

“Yes,” Zeke said, his smile growing. “Is this where you’re getting assigned?”

“I think so.” I shrugged, glancing at the sign. “What do you do here?”

“It’s not obvious?” the girl said, not impressed. “We’re doulas. You’re not going to last long if you’re that stupid.”

I blinked at her, the girl marching past me and heading inside. Zeke shook his head, moving forward and linking his arm in mine.

“Don’t mind Jackie,” he said, slowly leading me inside. “She’s having a rough morning. I’m glad we’re getting more surrogates to work here. They usually only let the infertile women do this job.”

That was interesting. “Really? Why is that?”

Zeke shrugged. “In the Nation, infertile women are the only ones allowed an education. So they can get training off the compound. That’s also why we can only be doulas instead of midwives.”

“Mrs. Nydia’s a midwife?”

“Yes, but she’s an exception. Women her age weren’t completely forbidden to go to school back when she was younger, so she was a nurse by the war’s end.”

“So she came to the Willows after?”

“Yes; her husband was a convert. It’s rare for an outsider to become a deacon, so there was a bit of controversy about that. I hear Mrs. Nydia doesn’t get on well with the other wives, but they have to include her just the same.”

“I see,” I mused, storying that information for later. As well as that fact that if I wanted gossip, Zeke was the place to go. He really didn’t have a filter. “I don’t see how I’ll be much help; I’ve never done this before.”

Zeke laughed, opening the door for me. “We were all beginners at some point. Besides, no one is due quite yet, so today will be a boring day. Should be easy to go over the basics.”

I went inside, the building opening into one large room. There was a desk in one corner with a computer on top and machines lining the wall behind it. On the other side of the room were two large birthing pools, which two women were cleaning it inside. There were doors leading to other rooms, and the back wall was lined with hospital beds, each with a bassinette next it.

Aside from the two women cleaning, and Jackie changing the sheets on the hospital beds, there were only three other people in the room: Mrs. Nydia sitting at the computer, a surrogate who had to be in his thirties sitting in the chair across from her, and another woman with short box braids sitting on the edge of the desk with a book in her lap. She noticed us first, snapping her book closed in a panic before seeming to realize who we were.

“Holy shit, Zeke,” she said, sliding off the desk. “Give someone a warning when you bring someone new in.”

“Sorry,” he said, walking over to her. “What were you reading?”

“None of your business. Go help Jackie with the beds.”

Zeke rolled his eyes at me before doing what he was told. The woman looked at me, gesturing for me to go over to her. I did, Mrs. Nydia typing away on the computer while the other two assessed me.

“You’re Evan’s kidnapped bride, right?” she said, smiling at me. “Andres?”

“Siobhan, we don’t kidnap people,” the surrogate playfully corrected. “Remember?”

“Right,” she said, nodding at him. “ _Rescued_. God, it’s so hard to remember the difference.”

“Would probably help if there was one.”

The two of them laughed at their joke. I didn’t say anything: it was clear they were trying to set me up.

“He’s so tense,” Siobhan said when she realized I wasn’t laughing with them. “Gosh, has Evan already whipped you into shape? Or were you this boring before?”

I frowned at the woman, still not responding. I didn’t like her.

“You two are annoying as hell,” Mrs. Nydia said, straightening up. She looked at me. “They’re rescues too. And when in in the right company, have no problems making their disdain for the Willows known. They’re not trying to trap you.”

“Way to kill the fun,” the surrogate said, frowning at Mrs. Nydia. “We don’t get newbies often.”

Nydia ignored him, pointing at him as she continued talking to me. “Malcolm.” She pointed to Siobhan. “Siobhan. They’re our lead doulas. Lex!”

One of the women cleaning the birthing tubs, a bandana holding her hair back, held up her hand.

“Present.”

“Dreama!”

“Here,” the other woman said, raising her hand before resuming her work. She had locs hitting her shoulder and I was rather jealous she got to keep hers.

“Those two,” Mrs. Nydia said, watching me, “are the other midwives with me. There are a bunch of young’uns we’re currently training as doulas, so you’ll see them in and out with these two. Here.”

She opened a desk drawer, pulling out a pencil and a small stack of papers. She handed them to me, and I glanced through it. It looked like a test.

“That’s an assessment I want you take for now,” she said, letting out a heavy breath. “Lets us know where you’re at knowledge-wise so Lex and Dreama know where to begin with your midwife training.”

I almost dropped the papers at that.

“Midwife?” I asked. “I thought only infertile women were allowed to be a midwife.”

Mrs. Nydia blinked at me, and I could almost see the million thoughts racing through her mind at my response. Siobhan chuckled, which grabbed Mrs. Nydia’s attention. She gestured for her and Malcolm to leave us, and once they got up and headed to the hospital beds to inspect them, she gestured for me to sit in the chair across from her. I obeyed, suddenly aware that everyone was watching us; even if they were pretending they weren’t.

“I’m going to level with you, Andres,” Mrs. Nydia said, leaning in and lowering her voice. “The wives do not like you.”

I swallowed. “Oh.”

She shrugged. “Ruthanne at least hasn’t written you off completely, but the other wives either aren’t fans, or they’re just not impressed. And they play into a lot of the games and political bullshit that I don’t have time for, Andres.

“Our small group is responsible for making sure every able woman and surrogate here are having all the babies they’re supposed to be having, and are able to live to brag about it. I birthed some of these kids that we’re training right now. I take my job very seriously, Andres, do you understand?”

I nodded. That much was obvious.

“And because I don’t have time for the bullshit, I figured I could take you in as a midwife in good faith. I could use someone with real medical experience. And I know most of the wives would be impressed if you succeed here. Get it? I’m doing this as a _favor_ to you, Andres.”

“Got it,” I said, wishing she wasn’t staring me down the way she was.

“Good,” she said, pointing at the papers in my hand. “If I’m going to stick my neck out, at least put in some effort. Take the assessment, I’ll review it with Lex and Dreama, and we’ll come up with a training plan from there. Go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, looking down at the first page.

“And Andres?”

I looked back up, her face softening. Just a little.

“I didn’t tell you about the wives to make you nervous. It’s obvious some gossipy little bitches have been talking to you, and that’s fine. But there’s only a small group of people who actually understand the politics that happens with the council and the wives. And whoever you’ve been talking to are not any of them.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I just nodded, hoping that was the right thing. She watched me for another moment, seeming to consider something.

“And keep in mind that you’re not one of the wives,” she told me. “And even when Father is replaced with Evan, you still won’t be one of the wives. When that happens, you’ll become Mother.”

Mrs. Nydia raised an eyebrow at me before turning back to her computer. I sat there for a moment, looking down at the assessment. I could barely think about anything written there now. 

Despite all the things I’d heard since coming to the Willows, hearing that I would one day become Mother was the most terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, just what does Nydia mean by that? We'll have to see! 
> 
> Jackie is going to be fun. Her deal is kinda funny imo. She's not a major threat though. Probably why she's so bitter lol. 
> 
> I hope you guys like Nydia! I like her a lot. She's got five kids as she didn't start having children until after the war. Most of them are around Jacob and Serenity's ages, though her youngest is only thirteen. She's actually in the middle of menopause, and happy for it. She's been pregnant many times after her youngest, but they've never stuck. She doesn't mourn it too much, and now she's happy that she's at the age where that expectation isn't on her anymore. Amen. 
> 
> I think this story is getting very overzealous tbqh. I think I need to readjust how I'm going to tell it. And other ones. 
> 
> That said, the sad part. As mentioned previously, this is going to be my last update until August. Remember: I will be returning with a double upload on August 1st and 2nd. At which point, I will update you all on whether my hiatus will continue, or what. I'm hoping that I can get a lot of new material written to share with you guys. 
> 
> I have been working on a companion piece to this which will be a bunch of oneshots about other people living in the Willows. Thought it would be a great way for you guys to see the ins and out of the Willows while also getting some other people's perspectives. I feel like you guys would appreciate those as it'll help you understand just how people born and raised in the Willows, and other rescues, feel about it. Everyone has their own relationship with the Willows and past that causes them to feel what they feel over it. 
> 
> I only have three stories so far, but I can't post them yet as they reference things that haven't happened in the story yet. If I write some stuff that doesn't spoil anything (which I do plan on doing so), then I'll post them during the hiatus (also a good time to plug why subscribing to me might be a good idea since you'll be emailed when I upload a new story just saying). But, again, making no promises on uploading during the hiatus. I also want to make a similar anthology for random people in Faust City, similar to whatever the fuck that one anthology of shorts I did, only more coherent lol. 
> 
> Sorry again that I have to do this, but I hope you guys enjoyed this weekend's bomb. I hope once I'm back, I'm renewed as fuck! Please leave loads of comments for me to return to!


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks to my new job training to become a midwife, the first few weeks at the Willows became a blur. I spent my mornings being lectured and tested by Lex and Dreama, who were just as no-nonsense as Mrs. Nydia, despite being closer to my age than hers. We all stopped for prayer and Bible study before lunch. Sometimes Evan would be there on break, though that was rare. On those days, I had to endure a quickie in our bedroom before I was free to rejoin the midwives and be given my afternoon readings.

On the days Evan didn’t show up, I often had lunch with Zeke, whose husband worked too far away for him to drive to the compound and back on his lunch breaks. I met a lot of other people during lunch. There was Gemma, who was seven months pregnant despite only being married to her husband for four. Lenny, whose mother was a rescue from Faust City. The story was she died when he was young, but something about that felt like a lie. Faith was an infertile deputy like Mike, and worked on the farm during the day. She was nice enough, and her fiancée, Victoria, was only a year older, and somehow more talkative than Faith.

Everyone, for the most part was nice. It was easy to forget how many of them sat there and watched Evan raped me that first night. They offered advice on how to increase my chances of getting pregnant, were fascinated by any stories I told about my life back in Faust City, and many would make remarks about how they felt comfortable knowing I would be replacing Mother when the time came.

I wasn’t sure how likely that last one was true or just them being polite. Still, it made me wonder about the Willows’ politics. Women and surrogates were in an interesting position where they spent the most time on the compound. As such, it seemed that their collective needs were genuinely taken into account. Still, that didn’t mean anyone was really listening to them.

Thus, it seemed, it was important for them to get the attention of the wives. Maybe even Mother if they could. They were the women who held the ears of their husbands. The ones who might be able to plant an idea or give a voice to their issues.

When I said something to Mrs. Nydia about it, however, she had scoffed.

“My husband couldn’t care what I had to say unless I was bragging about how many babies I delivered,” she said before quizzing me on the previous day’s reading that I didn’t fully understand.

There was another set of politics happening, that I soon realized surrounded Evan. Everyone loved Father, and everyone loved Evan. I quickly noticed that Evan seemed to talk the most to Mike and Josh. Mike, I realized, was sort of being mentored by Evan: Evan often gave her advice on how to handle Serenity and embrace her more masculine role. When in doubt, Mike deferred to Evan.

Josh, however, seemed to view Evan as an equal. There were a few times at dinner where I caught the two of them having a heated debate. The men around them would listen intently, laughing once the two came up for air. I wasn’t supposed to be listening in, but a lot of it was regarding what the Bible said on how husbands should treat their wives. They both came from a different school of thought, with Evan lobbying for authoritative practices while Josh preferred an authoritarian approach.

While the men, especially the older ones, seemed to agree with Josh, they at least listened to Evan. They held onto his word like he was Jesus himself, speaking on God’s behalf. It was obvious that the model Evan showcased would become the new standard once he replaced his father.

But it never gave off the feeling that Evan was looking to undermine his father. When the two spoke, it was always in private, away from the others. And if someone said something in these debates that seemed to attack his father’s teachings, Evan was quick to shut it down.

There were other men Evan would talk to often. Evan was nice to everyone, of course, so it was hard to tell who he truly liked. Still, it helped that I watched him around Declan, who was always annoying and challenging Evan. Evan’s face would get very calm when dealing with Declan, like a polite mask. And when he spoke, his voice was always low and gentle, as if afraid the slightest inflection would set Declan off.

I started to notice when Evan did this with other men. I noticed the way his smile tightened, the way his eyebrow would quirk, or the way his finger would tap against his leg when he was waiting for someone to finally stop talking. I even noticed it at night when he took his annoyance out on me, fucking me roughly and then gagging me with his dick before our night prayers.

I hated that I noticed it. It meant that I was starting to know Evan. Learn who he was aside from my kidnapper and rapist.

It meant all if this was becoming normal.

~*~

“He thinks he’s better than everyone since he gets to be a midwife.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending I couldn’t hear Jackie feet away at the lunch table, chatting shit about me. I’d caught her doing it a few times recently: commenting on how little I knew about the process of giving birth when I was a doctor. There were a small group of women her age who entertained her; the older ones were too focused on their children to listen.

“So we’re having another wedding ceremony next month?” Zeke asked Shiloh.

Shiloh nodded as he moved his food around. He’d been doing that a lot instead of actually eating these days.

“I saw Mrs. Lynn add it when she was prepping the meal plan for next month.”

“So who all are getting married this time around? Vinny and Cara, right?”

“He didn’t know anything about breastfeeding until Dreama walked him through it,” I heard Jackie’s voice.

“Emmanuel hasn’t proposed to Tara yet, right?” Shiloh asked. “Wouldn’t it be cute if they got married at the same time!”

“No, I think their father is really dead set against that. I heard he wants them learning how to be without each other.”

“And he didn’t even know a thing about Lamaze!”

“That’s not his choice though, right? Once they’re engaged, it’s on their fiancés when they get married.”

“Sure, but their father is close with Deacon Brown. He wouldn’t approve the engagement if their father didn’t approve.”

“They had to go over resuscitating babies with him, because you know it’s different than regular CPR. And he was struggling so much! Like, if you’re a doctor, shouldn’t you just know how to do this stuff?”

“Didn’t Rachael and Lonnie get engaged a few weeks ago?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“He’s been at this for weeks and he’s not getting any better. I would make a better midwife—”

“How old is Jackie?” I asked Shiloh and Zeke, interrupting their conversation.

They both looked at me confused, though Zeke was the one with the answer.

“About twenty-two? Maybe twenty-three? Why?”

“Does she have any kids?”

“No.”

“Really? How long has she been married?”

“A few years now,” Shiloh answered, looking at Zeke for confirmation. “Not long after Josh and I.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, aware that my voice was loud enough to drift down the table. “Strange. Is there something wrong with her?”

There was a hush around us, the people sitting closest to me shifting uncomfortably. I also noticed that Jackie finally shut the hell up. Good. That was the fucking point.

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Shiloh said, rather kindly. “For some of us, these things take time.”

I smiled at Shiloh, so he wouldn’t think I was commenting on his situation.

“That’s a good point, Shiloh. As long as she’s focusing on that goal, it shouldn’t matter how long it takes, right?”

I heard movement further down the table, and didn’t have to look to know it was Jackie making her exit. I casually sipped my water, ignoring how Shiloh was frowning after her, concern in his eyes. Zeke, however, had a smirk on his face he was failing to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! Surprise chapter! I think I did say I might do that, lol. Don't get used to it. I'm still, technically, on hiatus until August. 
> 
> These past few weeks have given me a lot of time to think. And write! Even with this chapter, I'm 20 chapters ahead! Much better. If I can knock out five or so more in the next couple of weeks, I'll feel more relaxed. Even with all these chapters, I'm still only about halfway through this story. Which sucks, but it's fine. I've been trying to just enjoy writing it instead of trying to rush through it, but old habits die hard. Sometimes, writing this story is a huge stress relief. Other times, the story is the stress. 
> 
> I'm not going to state what my decision is yet; I'm still mulling some things over. Still, I will warn you all that I'm considering slowing down how often I upload. At least for the rest of the year. I might turn this story into a side project to work on when I have writers block for my other projects. But if that's the case, it means I won't be working on it as often. Even though I do really want to see the end of this story, I also really am getting excited about some upcoming projects I'm working on. So I really want to devote my time and energy into them. 
> 
> That said, I really wanted to upload this and I think the next chapter. They're not really good chapters to come back from a hiatus from imo. Not much happens. When I was reading and reviewing this chapter, I sort of realized how far behind the uploads are lol. So much has happened. When I read this, I was like "wait, we're only HERE?" I was just surprised! 
> 
> So, like a horrible excuse for an adult, I finally filed my taxes last weekend lol. All close to the deadline. Whomp. 
> 
> Listen, I have an excuse. Not a good one, but an excuse lol. I didn't get my return back last year due to student loans. So, I assumed I wouldn't get it this year. I know, I suck, leave me alone. Finances stress me out. Anyway, since I wasn't planning on getting anything, I was like "fuck it" and just kept holding it off again and again until the deadline was coming up. 
> 
> But I did get it, and now I gots moneys! Lol. 
> 
> Not really, but whatever. 
> 
> It's enough that I've been getting recording equipment. A fucking $200 mic even! ;A; I feel really stupid investing in an endeavor that very likely is not going to take off realistically speaking (I'm a working class, chunky, dark skinned Black woman pushing 30. I'm not the aesthetic that tends to prosper on youtube lol), BUT, at the same time, who knows! I want to make content focusing on storytelling with a few fun vlog ideas and stuff. I'm even working with a friend on starting a podcast-kinda, that we can just upload on youtube. So I bought a separate mic for that and voice overs. And I finally got a tripod. One mic and the tripod are supposed to be arriving today. I likely won't get a chance to play with it until Friday though. 
> 
> Speaking of, I'm actually REALLY glad I took a break this month. When I say work is kicking my ass, I literally want to quit every day. It's not fun at all, and people are honestly pissing me off. I'm also lowkey pmsing rn, so I physically walked away so I didn't cuss out my coworkers. I'm really learning just how far people's selfishness will go, and it's making me realize how *I* need to be more selfish. I do a lot that inconveniences myself just so I don't get in anyone's way or inconvenience others, but I learned this month that no one gives a fuck about inconveniencing me, so fuck em! 
> 
> I even went so far as to lie to my boss about having to make a doctors appointment for this upcoming Friday just so I could schedule a day off when we've already, literally, been working at half staff all fucking month. These bitches wanna take off all fucking month and have my ass stressed out, hope y'all's Friday is as stressful as my last Friday was lol. 
> 
> Anyway, work has been so stressful that if I HAD to upload on top of that, I would have been having meltdowns and freakouts. 
> 
> Well, more than I WAS having lol. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you all are doing well! Take care! Let me know what you think of this very, VERY, short chapter. See ya whenever!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that there has been a chapter update recently. Make sure you've read chapter 29 if returning to this story after a while!

I pulled at the knot, frustrated and pretending my face wasn’t hot with embarrassment.

“You almost had it that time,” Evan said, his voice light. He was obviously trying not to laugh.

“No, I didn’t,” I snapped back, rearranging the tie around his neck. “I wasn’t even close.”

“Let me know when you need me to show you again.”

I wanted to glare at Evan for that, but I knew better. A month into life at the Willows, and I wasn’t any closer to learning how to fix a tie than when we started. Admittedly, I hadn’t been trying too hard in the beginning. I purposely messed up, hoping Evan would get tired of this for a while and just let me off the hook.

If I took long enough, Evan would just sigh and do it himself. But the following day, he would always wake me up even earlier than necessary so we had time to practice. I did enjoy, on some degree, failing him in this regard. I liked that there was nothing he could do to make me a pro at this. I could spend the rest of my life spitefully fucking up ties until he was forced to take over.

At least I was okay until he insulted my intelligence.

“Were you really a doctor?” he asked me days prior when I undid the knot I’d created. “Faust City must have low standards if someone who can’t even fix a tie properly can get a medical license.”

And the worst part was I knew he was playing me. But it fucking worked.

I was now dedicated to getting this right. If I had my phone, I would watch videos on top of videos until I was dreaming about it. If I didn’t have to spend my days and afternoons with the midwife training, I would grab one of Evan’s ties from the closet and practice all day.

As things were, I was only stuck practicing for the few minutes in the morning. But it had to be enough. I was going to get it.

“Are you ready to give up today?” Evan asked, his pocket watch on the bed between us. He glanced at it, looking bored. “I can only afford about five more minutes of this.”

“I can do it,” I told him, starting again. “This time I’ll get it.”

Evan hummed, closing his eyes while I worked. I hated that he was enjoying this. I hated that he knew me enough to know exactly what button to push to make me take this seriously. I hated that he was winning. I hated that I was seriously making it my personal mission to learn how to properly tie a tie just so I didn’t feel like an idiot.

“Got it!” I said, smiling as I pulled the small end and fixed it at his neck. I brought the collar of his shirt down, feeling elated.

Evan brought a hand up to his neck, feeling the knot before he moved to stand. Since I was on his lap, it forced me to get up with him. I watched as he approached the closet, opening it for the mirror and accessing my work. I watched him adjust it a bit before giving his reflection a quick nod. When he turned, I held my breath.

“Wonderful,” he said, walking back over to me and pulling me into his arms. “I knew you could do it.”

If I weren’t afraid for getting in trouble for it, I would have come back with a snarky retort. Call him out for antagonizing me. But instead, I just smiled like an idiot while he kissed me.

“Since you worked so hard,” he said, grabbing his watch from the bed and pocketing it, “I’ll let you come tonight.”

“Ah,” I said, feeling a bit panicked. That wasn’t at all what I wanted to hear. “You don’t have to do—”

Evan interrupted me with another kiss. “I want to. Now get dressed so we can go eat.”

Mike and Serenity were already at the table when we got there, so we sat across from them. Declan and a few of the other men had a new construction job that required them to up and working by five. Mike had volunteered to make sure Jacob was at breakfast with her and Serenity.

When I sat next to Jacob, he was looking at his food, not eating. He’d been looking a bit off the past week; tired and distant.

“Not hungry?” I asked him as Mike and Evan started some conversation about repairs being made on the compound.

Jacob shrugged. That seemed to be his default response to anything these days. I glanced at Serenity, who met my eyes. She looked worried. I leaned in closer to him.

“At least eat something, Jacob,” I said, making sure my voice was gentle. “You know they pay attention to how much we eat.”

Jacob sighed, picking up his plate and moving around a bit of eggs and sausage. He then suddenly brought a hand up to his face, covering his eyes. He let out a shaky breath, but at least he wasn’t sobbing.

“What is wrong with him?” Evan asked me, his voice so close that it made me jump.

I put a hand on Jacob’s back, rubbing circles. “I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “Maybe he’s just emotional. It might be the time of the month for him.”

Jacob’s breath hitched at that, and I noticed Serenity and Mike exchange glances. Shit.

“What’s wrong?”

We all turned, watching two surrogates around Jacob’s age approach. I recognized one of the boys, chunky with light colored hair, from the group that had held Jacob down during the wedding ceremony. The other one was wearing an apron, and I wondered if they both came from the kitchen.

Jacob turned to them, his back turned towards us while the boys spoke to him in hushed tones. One replaced my hand on Jacob’s back. It was weird seeing Jacob open up to them so easily when he rarely spoke to me or Serenity. I guess I couldn’t blame him though; it was probably easier to talk to kids his own age than listen to me tell him what to do.

“Is it about what we talked about the other day?” the boy in the apron asked. “Did you get an answer?”

Jacob nodded, and I was really concerned then. What did Jacob need an answer for? I wanted to lean forward and listen in, but Evan placed a hand on my leg, grabbing my attention.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

I started. “Jacob—”

“Is fine, as you can see. Finish your breakfast.”

I signed, turning back to my food. After a few more minutes, the two surrogates stood, dragging Jacob with them. It looked like they were heading to the kitchen. I focused on my meal, Evan not turning away until he saw I had returned my focus to what he felt was more important. After a while, Mike and Evan headed out, and Serenity and I could finish our meals in peace.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” she asked me.

I frowned as I looked at her, wondering where that came from. “No. Why?”

Serenity hesitated, making sure no one was close enough to overhear before leaning in.

“We’ve been here well over a month now, right? At least six weeks.”

I nodded. I lost track; it was easy since even on weekends, there was a still a routine on the compound. The men home from work were expected to help out with repairs or maintenance or construction. Declan was heading a big project that was going to be a larger church building to replace the one we already had. Apparently, the congregation had grown to the point where children spent Sundays at the daycare with Bible study classes just so there were enough seats for the adults. There were also a lot of reports of leaky ceilings after the rainstorm a few days prior.

That meant that the men were still gone during the day, and the women and surrogates were expected to maintain their routines. The only real difference was that the kids usually tagged alongside their mothers and surrogate fathers, behaving lest their fathers have to punish them after dinner. Without the normal break in the week, I rarely knew what day I was on.

It was probably intentional.

“I was just thinking it was weird you two aren’t pregnant yet,” Serenity said, shrugging. “I have to wait for our doctor appointment. Since I was on birth control, Mike said we need to wait a couple of months before we can start trying. But it’ll be very concise when it happens, you know?”

I wasn’t sure I did, but that was fine. I knew exactly why I wasn’t pregnant. But Jacob…

“Do you think he’s doing something to sabotage it?” I asked. I could see Jacob doing that.

And Declan punishing him like crazy for it.

“I don’t know,” Serenity said, shrugging. “Just weird. It’s kind of been on my mind, honestly, because Mike said she made our appointments and everything. And, like, back before we went to that convention, Bev pulled Jacob and me aside with tips on what to pack. She made a remark about pads or tampons and Jacob said he wouldn’t need them.”

“If he tracks it—”

“I know. But Bev said it’d be smart to bring some anyway and he said he’ll be right in the middle of his cycle by the time we got back home. That even if he was early, he’ll be home long before then. If that’s the case, wouldn’t he have been close to ovulating when we got here?”

My heart was pounding. “It’s likely with the stress of everything…” I said, not believing it as I said it.

“Sure,” Serenity said with a frown. “But we know how these men are. Doesn’t Evan fuck you every night?”

“I don’t know,” I pressed. “Declan is an ass. He’d be bragging about being the first one in the house to get his wife pregnant.”

“Unless he doesn’t know.”

~*~

I spent all day thinking about Jacob. Worrying about him. Declan was a loose cannon: it wouldn’t be smart for Jacob to hide a pregnancy from him. Not that I had any room to talk, but still. I planned on coming clean about my deception. Soon. Eventually. And to someone who at least seems open to conversation.

“They’re just Braxton Hicks contractions,” Dreama said to Tanya, the young girl they were looking over.

Tanya couldn’t have been older than nineteen, and this was her first pregnancy. She was short and petite, so her 34-week old belly looked huge on her. Her hair was in braids, currently pulled back with a white bandana. She was sitting on one of the hospital beds in the back, pressing against her stomach and wincing at the pain she was having.

“How do you know that’s what they are?” I asked Dreama.

“Do you only feel them in your stomach?” Dream asked Tanya.

Tanya nodded.

“And they’re pretty much the same: not getting any more intense?”

“No.”

“And they started last night?”

“Yeah.”

“But they’re not getting closer together?”

Tanya shook her head at that. Dreama turned to me.

“Real contractions spread. You’ll feel it in your back and hips and everywhere. They get more and more intense as labor progresses. And they start happening at closer intervals as time goes by.”

“Ah,” I said, writing that down in my notes.

Dreama turned to Tanya. “Believe me, hun, you’ll know when they’re real contractions.”

Tanya still looked worried, but nodded. I still checked her blood pressure and took a few blood samples just to be sure she was good elsewhere. Her blood pressure was excellent, and we’d have to wait on the rest of the results. After being told to take it easy for the rest of the day, Tanya thanked us and got up to leave.

“First mothers are so annoying,” Dreama said with a laugh. “They act like no one else has done this before.”

“I guess she just doesn’t know what to expect,” I said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t have known the difference between real contractions and Braxton Hicks.”

“I guess. I only know because of this job. I never had a need to know about pregnancy until coming here.”

That surprised me. We started to pack everything up. Everyone else was gone for the day, not wanting to spend the nice day inside. Aside from Tanya and a surrogate wife named Caleb, most of the pregnant wives on the compound were pretty early along. As such, they didn’t need frequent checkups, and they were all mostly already mothers. They didn’t reach out to the midwives for every little issue the way the new moms did. It was a slow week, and I was only there because Evan had all but ordered it.

“I didn’t know you were a rescue,” I said conversationally, making sure to properly dispose of the needles I used to draw Tanya’s blood.

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “My husband was, well, a character. A lot of issues with him.”

“Who is your husband?”

“Oh, he passed away almost a decade ago. Thank God. I know that’s mean to say, but he was a hot mess. It’s easier now not having to deal with him.”

“Hot mess?” I pressed. This was interesting.

Dreama sighed. “Yeah. We were both from the Nation: North Carolina actually. We met at college when I was training to be a nurse. He was studying religion, actually. He was, well, honestly, he was gay. But he didn’t want to admit it. I saw it for what it was, and so told him I didn’t mind being his beard.

“Since I was infertile, there was a lot of pressure for me to marry a good man and get a surrogate and have babies. But I was fine not having kids. I liked them but never really wanted to have them. I thought the plan was for both of us to be each other’s covers. He’d sleep with guys on the side, and I’d find women I could be with. And no one would be the wiser.”

“Was he not aware that’s what you were doing?” I asked.

“That’s what he acted like when he found about the neighbor I was screwing. He was sleeping with men, but it wasn’t as frequently as I was. And it wasn’t without a lot of guilt. He really felt like shit for it every time. I didn’t. While I reveled in it, he would convince himself every time that it was the last time. And then feel worse when it wasn’t.

“So he found the Willows and become very devout. He made me break up with the neighbor, and we were at church a lot. He talked about having children; getting a surrogate and all that. I was against that. I refused. I told him I would sooner divorce him.”

Dreama paused, looking off into the distance for a moment. Something happened that she was reliving. A dark moment. She took a deep breath in and out, shrugging again.

“Some things happened and he all but forced us to move here. It worked at first because there was no surrogate system here. So I didn’t have to worry about having children. And the Willows operates on the ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ philosophy. So there were plenty of children for us to help raise despite not having any ourselves.

“But that wasn’t enough for him. He ended up having a few affairs with the men here. It led to quite a situation. In the end, he and three other men were excommunicated from the church.”

“I thought you said he died,” I said, now confused.

“I did,” Dreama said, hesitating. She glanced at me, then at the door to make sure no one was coming. “In the Willows, the only way we have to truly punish those who break our rules is through excommunication. But no one leaves the Willows; at least not alive. The way we explain it is that the guilt of their sins causes those who are repelled from the church to do what they do. But they don’t really have a choice in it.”

I blinked at her, letting her words sink in. Do what they do. I could only think of one thing that meant, and it wasn’t pretty. Still, I had to hear it.

“What do they—”

The door busted open, Zeke coming in looking a bit frantic. And he was out of breath. I let out a heavy breath, my question falling silent at my lips. Dream stood, looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as Zeke walked in.

Zeke shook his head, looking over the door. “I don’t know. I’m sorry; I was at home and then Ross called me and yelled at me—when I didn’t even _do_ anything. And then—” Zeke shook his head again, frowning. “We have to go to the church. All women and surrogates and children. They have to do a headcount.”

Dream frowned then. “A headcount. Why?”

Zeke looked at me, his face anxious.

“Jacob has gone missing. And he’s taken two surrogates with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Another surprise chapter! Wow! 
> 
> I mostly had to do this because next weekend is the weekend bomb I promised after coming back from hiatus, and the three chapters together will make more sense to post together. The last two in particular will be a bit too cruel to keep y'all hanging for a week lol. 
> 
> Oh, and maybe some of y'all noticed but I have a new side project that I also will be updating very sporadically. I have a few more chapters written, but some stuff has to happen plot wise so as not to spoil things. Sorry not sorry lol. But that one is going to just be oneshots of random Willows peeps doing their daily thing. Hoping to get some backstory stuff in that I likely won't have time to explore, as well as help build the world a bit. We'll see who else gets featured. If you guys want to see someone in particular, let me know and I'll try to make it happen. 
> 
> With that said, see you guys next Friday for the weekend bomb. Leave comments as always please!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from hiatus! If this is your first time back since I began, know that I uploaded two chapters in the interim. Make sure you're all caught up before starting this one!

“So, you’re, like, dating him now?”

I paused, sitting back in the harness, and looking up. It was Blue’s stupid idea to go rock climbing on a Saturday. It was really just so she could show off how she was more in shape she was than Kelvin and me. And more in shape than most of the other people climbing other walls in the gym.

Not that I cared; it was just something to do to kill some time before I called Lyle for what we decided was going to be our date night. We would set up some private area with some food and our tablets for a video call. It was the exact sort of corny thing that made me feel silly, but Lyle had loved the idea so I much that I couldn’t shoot it down.

Even if the only reason he loved it so much was because it was _his_ idea.

“I guess so,” I said to Blue, watching her stop to look down at me. “Yeah. We are.”

“Wow,” Blue said, smiling. “You’re like a whole new man.”

“How exclusive are you two?” Kelvin asked, finally reaching me. The fact that he was even slower than I was meant he was crazy out of shape.

I raised an eyebrow at him as I readjusted myself to start moving again. “Why are you even asking that? I said we’re dating.”

“But, like, Lyle isn’t here. You’re really going to be celibate until he flies in to fuck you?”

“I’m glad you’re so concerned about my sex life,” I snarked back, oddly annoyed. “I can go a couple of months without banging someone.”

“Exactly!” Blue called down to us. “That’s what vibrators are for!”

“She really just fucking yelled that in the middle of this gym,” Kelvin muttered, pausing to see who had looked up.

I focused on climbing, using my irritation at Kelvin to push and pull myself up the grips. I wasn’t close to being a pro like Blue, but once I got a rhythm going, it wasn’t that hard. Just required a lot of exertion.

Blue reached the top, sitting down and waiting for us. I got there a few minutes later, panting as I stood next to her. I looked down at Kelvin, still halfway down, wondering if I should push him down once he got close.

“I think it’s great,” Blue said, smiling at me. “He seemed cool when we met him. I am surprised you’re doing the long-distance thing, though.”

“It’s not that hard for me to go a long time without sex,” I said, rolling my eyes at her now too. “You guys—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Blue said, laughing. “God, you know how little I care about men getting laid. I mean in general. You never struck me as the type who would be willing to do the work for that.”

“That sounds even worse,” I said with a frown. “Like it’s hard to call him?”

Blue sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not just a matter of calling each other. You’re committing to be with each other even though you don’t get a quick reward. He’s not here for you to hang out with. Go out on dates with. Go visit after a rough day at the lab, or go shopping with. It might seem easy for now, but it can get draining after a while.”

“Yeah,” Kelvin said, finally reaching the top. Though he struggled to pull himself up. “I kinda meant that too: the companion aspect. Like, I assume he’s going to move down here, but have y’all talked about when?”

“No,” I said, frowning. “Why do you assume _he’s_ moving?”

“ _You’re_ buying a house. Have you talked about him moving at all?”

I shrugged. Kelvin finally pulled himself up and he exchanged a look with Blue.

“So there’s no plan here?”

I shrugged again. “When we decided to start dating, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing before he left. We haven’t really talked about it in detail yet.”

“So you’re committing to not fucking anyone else when you don’t even know what you two are doing?” Kelvin pushed, sounding incredulous. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Know what couldn’t be me?” I said to him with a smile. “Falling off this wall without a harness.”

Kelvin blinked at me, fearful. “I have a harness.”

I lifted my hand, letting my magic emit a golden glow around it. His harness disappeared before coming back into view.

“Sure about that?”

“You a real piece of shit,” Kelvin said, turning to start making his way down.

“Why are we friends with him?” I asked, watching Kelvin jump his way back down.

“I’m still friends with him because he’s the only one who likes to watch indie films with me,” Blue said, standing. “I think you were only still friends with him because he was a good fuck buddy.”

“Well, since I’m out of the market for one of those…”

“He has a point, though. At least about the having a plan part. You two should talk about it. It doesn’t seem worth it dating seriously if he has no intentions of moving. Or you; you can sell your house at any time, honestly.”

I sighed. I knew she had a point. Blue did at least; Kelvin could go fuck off in a ditch for all I cared at the moment.

“Yeah,” I said, preparing to jump down myself. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

~*~

I tapped my foot on the patio ground, the sun low but still bright. It was almost six-thirty. I had done my part: banning my parents from bothering me on the patio, and laying out the Chinese food I bought on my way home from the gym. I had gotten my laptop instead of my tablet, only because the webcam was nicer on it, and waited for Lyle to call.

I felt oddly nervous. I had even showered and put on nicer clothes—the sort I typically wore to the lab. I wasn’t sure if it was worth putting in the effort: Lyle would likely show up in a hoodie or something. Still; it was nice to try a little.

The video call site started ringing; this was it. I let out a quick breath before accepting it. Lyle popped up on screen, still messing with his webcam. He was inside, the lighting bright considering. He seemed to notice me waiting, and shyly grinned at me before sitting down.

“Hey!” he said, adjusting the camera one last time so I could properly see him. “Sorry, I have an external cam. Not at all worth it, honestly.”

“No problem,” I said, feeling a smile climb my lips. He was in a nice though casual shirt; better than a hoodie. “Close to settling in yet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lyle said, looking at me on the screen instead of at the camera. “I finished unpacking, so now I just have to do laundry tomorrow and I’m back in my routine.”

“Going back to work is weird when you’ve been gone a while.”

“I know. At least with the conventions, it’s all research related so I’m still in work mode. But with this, nope. Oh, what did you do for dinner?”

I lifted up one of the cartons of lo mein. “Chinese. What about you?”

Lyle lifted up a wrapped-up burrito; it was chunky and obviously packed. “Mexican.”

“That’s offensive,” I said, smiling.

“Oh, like you didn’t get Chinese because you were thinking of me,” Lyle said before taking a big bite of the burrito.

“I just wanted something quick and fattening,” I said, because I actually wasn’t thinking about that when I went with it. “I went rock climbing today.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun. With your friends, or alone?”

“It was Blue’s idea. I’d never do that on my own.”

“Too rough for you?”

“Yup,” I admitted between bites of my food. “I’m a sensitive soul.”

“Sure. Can I tell you something?”

I felt butterflies in my stomach; why did I feel anxious at hearing that? I nodded either way, silently eating as I waited.

“I literally couldn’t wait for this,” Lyle said with a grin. “I spent all day thinking about you.”

“You are so corny,” I said, pretending that didn’t make my face heat up pleasantly.

“You better get used to it,” Lyle laughed. “My love language is very verbal. You’re going to be hearing a lot of shit like that.”

“I never thought about that,” I said, watching a few birds settle in the bushes next to the patio. “Can I take a quiz or something on what my love language is?”

Lyle laughed at that too. I smiled, picking up my phone and looking up stupid quizzes online on love languages.

“It’s asking me if I prefer receiving ‘thinking about you’ gifts or hugs. Is that a euphemism for sex?”

“No, they mean hugs.”

“Oh, that’s so weird. Do normal people hug a lot?”

“Some do, yes.”

“So weird. Okay, so now it’s asking if I’d rather do a shared activity when I’m stressed, or have the one I love perform acts of kindness to try to help me relax. Probably the latter; though if I’m stressed, I don’t want to do anything except handle it.”

“Unless it’s sex, right?”

I looked at the camera, smiling. “I’m glad you know me so well.”

Lyle chuckled, his smile fading a bit. I knew something was up, so I put the phone down.

“What?” I asked, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Nothing,” he lied. “I was just thinking we should talk about that.”

“About what?”

“Sex.”

I frowned at that. “I can’t wait until marriage to have sex again, Lyle,” I told him honestly. “I will seriously have to—”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Lyle said, rolling his eyes. “Good to know, though.”

“Oh,” I said, adjusting and digging my chopsticks into the carton of lo mein again. “Then what about it?”

“It’s not just about sex,” Lyle said, shrugging. He was looking offscreen while he spoke. “I know we said we wanted to date seriously, and I really want that. But I’m in a completely different country over a thousand miles away. And you’re literally buying a house. And I know it feels really early to start thinking about forever, but…”

I waited. Was I missing something? What did the future have to do with sex? It was obvious we were going to visit each other. There’d be lots of time for it then. Unless Lyle didn’t want to be exclusive. Unless he’d really been enjoying his newly embraced sexuality too much to give it up.

I didn’t blame him for that. I just wish he’d come right out and say it instead of beating around the bush.

“We don’t have to be exclusive if you don’t want to,” I told him. “Sexually at least. I’m not into that polyamorous shit.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lyle said, frowning. “I mean, not really. It’s just, rather…” His voice trailed off and he sighed. He looked back at the screen—still missing the camera—and he seemed to get his resolve once he saw me. “I know you were joking the other day, but would you seriously not consider moving to Toronto?”

I blinked.

“I—” I cut myself, not sure what to say. Okay, so this was going to be a serious conversation.

Fine. 

“I love Faust City,” I told him, putting my food down. “My entire family is here.”

“ _My_ family is here,” he answered.

I hesitated, because the majority of his family wasn’t even speaking to him right now. Still, I knew pointing that out would be cruel.

“I don’t really have any desire to move,” I told him. “I want to stay here in Faust City.”

Lyle nodded, seeming to consider that.

“Okay,” he said. “Then my next question is do you want me to move down there?”

My hearth skipped a beat at that.

“Would you want to?” I asked back.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “Answer my question first.”

“Like, move in with me?”

“I wouldn’t have to at first. I could get my own spot down there, and then—”

“That’s stupid,” I cut him off. “I’m getting a house. If you came down, it makes more sense for you to just move in.”

“Andres,” Lyle sighed. “We’ve known each other for years, but we don’t _know_ each other. There’s nothing wrong with taking it slow.”

“Sure, but that seems silly. You get your own place down here and what happens if—”

I pulled a full stop there. I swallowed my words, looking away. I saw Lyle also tense a bit.

“What happens if what?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You do know. What were you going to say? What happens if what?”

I let out my breath in a huff. “What happens if we break up?” I asked. “Then you’re stuck here at least until your lease is up.”

“So what?” Lyle asked, looking a bit annoyed. “You’d rather I move in so you can easily kick me out of your life if that happens?”

“No!” I said, mad that we were fighting about this. “I just mean it’ll be easier for you to leave then. You can be free with nothing holding you down.”

“Why are you already planning—”

“This is stupid,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I don’t know why we’re even arguing about this when you haven’t even said if you’d be willing to move down here.”

“Of course I would!” Lyle snapped back.

There was a pause between us, his words lingering in the air. I sighed, sitting back in my chair.

“Okay,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then just move in with me.”

Now it was Lyle’s turn to sigh.

“You don’t think that’s moving too fast?”

“No,” I said, honestly. I shrugged. “We’d been moving at a snail’s pace since we met. And they say you don’t really know someone until you live with them. Why put it off? And I really don’t want you spending a shitload of money to come down here if you’re coming here to be with me.”

“Really?” Lyle said, smirking. “What if it takes me a while to find a job. You’ll be stuck supporting me.”

I adjusted my position in my chair, leaning forward a bit.

“I can do that,” I said. “I can afford it at least. And then you don’t have to waste whatever you have saved being overly stressed.”

“Oh, you want to be my sugar daddy?”

I rolled my eyes while Lyle laughed at that. He could barely keep a straight face while he said it.

“That’s not what I mean, but I have no problem supporting my boyfriend while he looks for a job.”

Lyle’s grin really grew at that. “Say that again.”

“What? You looking for a job?”

“Stop being cute and say it again.”

“What? That you’re my boyfriend? Is that what you’re sentimental about?”

“Yup,” Lyle said, his smile goofy and adorable. If only he was with me so I could kiss him.

“So you’ll move in with me?” I asked because he never really gave a definite on that. And Blue and Kelvin felt it was important for us to be on the same page with this.

Lyle sighed, looking at the screen as if indulging a petulant child.

“Okay,” he said. “That’ll be the plan, then. I’ll move in with you.”

I smiled, pretending my stomach wasn’t doing backflips right now.

“Awesome,” I said. “When?”

“We’d have to give it a few months at least,” Lyle said, considering it. “I have to let my sister know in case she wants to downsize since I won’t be here to help with rent anymore. And I’m currently in the middle of a research paper with my team, so I need to wait until that’s done. Probably not until after summer.”

“That’s fine. I should be moved in and settled by then. I do have a question, though.”

Lyle perked up a bit. “What?”

“What did any of that have to do with sex?”

Lyle laughed, his face getting red. “I was just thinking that if this turns into something where we only see each other a few times a year and we don’t move in together until we’ve been dating for years, we might want to consider opening this up a bit. At least sexually.”

I smirked, reaching for my carton of food. “I’m not worth waiting for, Lyle?”

“We both know it’d be more for your sake!”

I rolled my eyes. Apparently everyone thought I was a whore. Still…

“Okay then,” I said, jamming my chopsticks into my food. “Let’s talk about that then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did I really come back and NOT follow up immediately with what happened after the last chapter? Wow, am I bitch for doing that? Wow, is yes the answer to both those questions? 
> 
> Y'all actually almost got left on read. I forgot I said I was doing a weekend bomb this weekend lol. I think, technically, I said I would come back on the 1st, knowing it was a Saturday, but I always start my weekend bombs on Fridays. Sooooooo whatever lol. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun editing this chapter! It was funny. Kelvin is an ass, so Andres fucking with him was very cathartic. I actually based Kelvin on a dude I used to work with until a year or so ago, and he was an ass too. Their names are even similar lol. Still, Kelvin isn't all bad. He just mad he ain't getting at them cheeks no more! Lol. 
> 
> I also totally didn't mean to do the Mexican/Chinese food thing lol. Andres isn't Mexican, but that makes the joke even funnier. When I wrote this, I just liked the idea of Andres casually eating lo mein out of a carton. And since Lyle works out, I tried to think of what would be a good protein and carb heavy meal he could get. And I immediately thought of a chicken and rice burrito. 
> 
> You guys got a Pancheros near you? I LOVE their burritos. 100000000000000000% better than Chipotle. I eat Chipotle if like I get outvoted and that's where everyone wants to go, but I do NOT love Chipotle. Pancheros tho? God, their burritos! I got a burrito from Chipotle ONCE and it fucking BROKE. I know I load up my burritos but the Pancheros burritos don't break no matter how much gets stuffed in em! I've never had a Pancheros burrito break on me. But Chipotle's weak sauce tortillas? Wack. Pancheros will always be supreme. 
> 
> Anyway, so July literally killed me! Lol. I'm not joking. Today especially was miserable, but I think that's because I resented having to work. Lol. I took off this upcoming week just to relax and try to work on some stuff. AND RELAX. I fucking deserve it after the fucking month I had. Jfc. 
> 
> But tomorrow is a new month, that I'm starting off with a week of relaxation and other fun stuff. I'm so excited for a FUCKING BREAK lol. 
> 
> That said, I need to discuss what is going to be happening with this story. I thought a lot about this, went back and forth, and as much as I like being a consistent hoe, this story WILL have to take a backseat to some other projects I intend to work on. 
> 
> THIS DOES NOT MEAN I'M GOING TO STOP. There will be more chapters. But for my sanity and to stay on SOME sort of schedule, I've decided to post on the first of every month now. That is the only uploaded guaranteed; HOWEVER, THAT LIKELY WILL NOT BE THE ONLY TIME I UPLOAD PER MONTH. The first will be the one upload a month perfectly planned that you can expect. In between, I will likely post sporadically when I feel like it. 
> 
> I did get a decent amount ahead, however, this story is so long and I honestly don't see the end in sight. And I can't wait for this story to be over before I move on to other projects. I'm sorry, but I just can't. 
> 
> I was thinking about a writer here on Ao3 that I've been following for YEARS. She actually has about a dozen stories all going at once, and she uploads some stories one weekend, other stories the following weekend, and then has one or two weekends of side one shots, and then returns with the main stories the following week. Meaning each story REALLY only gets updated about once a month. There are also lots of writers who have WIPs that are half finished, half abandoned, with uploads once in a blue moon. Despite how much I REFUSE to be that bad, I think that the lazy nature of publishing on this site is one of the appeals. It's good to have goals, but at the end of the day, this is passion project. And I have things I need to work on to get to the next level of my life. It's time to prioritize that stuff. 
> 
> I have more than enough material to last MONTHS with this upload schedule even if I don't write in this story for the rest of the year (though I HIGHLY doubt that would happen lol). Honestly, I'd be fine quite a few months maintaining my previous upload schedule, but I was honestly struggling to commit to sitting down and uploading on the same day every week, not to mention previous hangups I had regarding the day I was uploading. This will allow for more spontaneity, while also maintaining a consistent upload schedule. 
> 
> Hope you guys understand! Also, please leave me loads of comments! Let me know how you feel! 
> 
> We'll continue the drama of Jacob's disappearance tomorrow!


	32. Chapter 32

I was passed yet another tablet from the person sitting in front me. The church was oddly quiet, a few women and surrogates still spilling inside. When we came in, two of the deacons had been at the door with counters in their hands. The clicks of them counting us echoing in the building. We were filed into the pews, some people immediately bowing their heads and praying.

Four tablets—now five—had been passed around; we were to find our names and check off that we were present. At first, I thought it was a way for the men to keep track of who still needed to be ushered into the church. But I soon realized it was yet another way to keep track. To make sure no one was checking off for someone else. They would obviously compare the numbers against the deacons counting people as they got inside, and investigate any discrepancies.

It was all rather thorough.

“Has this happened before?” I asked Zeke next to me.

“Occasionally,” Zeke said, finding his name before passing it off to Dreama next to him. “Usually it’s two young kids with dreams of running away and making a new life for themselves off the compound. A few years ago, it this boy and girl who wanted to move up north. He wanted to become a surgeon, and she wanted to marry him.”

“Did they make it?”

Zeke glanced at Tanya, sitting across the aisle. She was praying with a few children next to her.

“He did,” Zeke said, shrugging. “She’s still here.”

I blinked, wanting to ask more details, but the doors suddenly slammed closed. Father made his way down the aisle, Mother behind him. As he got to the pulpit, he turned to Mother, asking her a quiet question. Her answer was just as quiet, and she glanced back at the two deacons pulling up the rear. They nodded, and Father seemed content. He continued his climb to the lectern, facing us.

“As I’m sure you are aware,” he started, his voice boisterous and echoing as it always does, “three surrogates are missing. We are currently searching the entire grounds to verify whether or not they made it off the compound. Once every inch has been thoroughly searched, you are all to return to your homesteads.

“You will have to provide your own households dinner tonight, as well as breakfast tomorrow. Any further adjustments will be communicated to your husbands, who will instruct you on how the next 48 hours will go. Your compliance in this is mandatory, and appreciated.”

Father let out a heavy sigh as he looked over us. I felt oddly helpless and useless. What if they didn’t find Jacob in 48 hours? What if someone else in the Nation found him? And what about the two surrogates he left with? Who were they? Did they convince him to run, or was this all Jacob’s idea?

My head was spinning with questions. I glanced at Zeke, who was biting his thumbnail, his gaze glued to Father.

“For now, you are to stay here in the church,” Father said, moving to step down from the pulpit. “Deacon Brown and Hynes will be here to watch over you. If anyone has information they believe will help us find these boys, please let them know.”

With that, he was making his way back down the aisle. I watched him leave, two older men shutting and locking the doors behind him. Mother moved onto the pulpit, sitting on the edge.

“Goodwives,” she said, looking out at us, her face calm and gentle looking. It was an odd contrast to the scowl she normally levied at me. “Let us use this time to catch up on our prayers.”

Praying, not surprisingly, got old quickly. The younger children were getting antsy, crying and complaining about not being allowed outside to play. There was a bit of food downstairs, as well as bathrooms. Most of the mothers took their children there, some of the younger girls and surrogates going down there to help them. A few came back up after the children were put down for naps; mats were apparently laid out, and it was warm enough for most of them to not need blankets.

“How long are we going to be stuck here?” I asked, shifting. I was getting antsy my own self.

“Probably a few more hours at least,” Zeke said, thumbing through a Bible. “They have to be thorough. I heard one time, they called the local police to look outside the compound, but the girl who went missing was found hiding in the attic of her house. The authorities made a big stink about us wasting their time, so we have to make sure they’re really not here before we can escalate it.”

“Zeke, do you ever stop talking?” Dreama asked next to him, her eyes shut as she tried to rest.

“He asked a question,” Zeke said, pouting a little.

“And you give so much information to just a small question. This is why Ross is always giving you gag orders.”

Zeke’s dark face got even darker; a blush barely visible.

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” he all but whined, his voice indignant. He turned to me, his eyes shy. “I barely got a chance to practice my English until I got here, so I liked talking.”

“You _still_ like talking,” Dreama said, a smirk on her face.

Zeke pouted, but didn’t say anything else. He looked down at the Bible in his hand, silent as he read. Dreama turned her head away from us, and I leaned to Zeke, making sure my voice was low.

“The information you give me is always helpful,” I told him. “Even if no one else does, I like how much you talk.”

Zeke looked at me, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and just nodded. He put the Bible back in the pocket on the back of the pew in front of us, a small smile on his face.

Hopefully, that would encourage him to keep talking to me: Zeke’s info dumps were even more useful than Shiloh. Shiloh was good with learning the everyday ins and out of the Willows, but Zeke had information on people. He knew who didn’t like who, which households had bickering couples, and which teenagers were seeing each other behind their parents’ backs. Zeke even knew who was pregnant before it was announced to the congregation, and not because of some six sense.

Zeke had ears and eyes everywhere, and there was a lot of value in that.

There was a heavy knock on the door, grabbing my attention. A few others also looked as the door opened, one of the deacons unlocking the door and pushing it open. Declan walked in with another deacon, all of them talking briefly. They nodded curtly, turning to look at us. I met the eyes of one—a tall, older man with enough girth to be intimidating. He headed my way while the other deacon headed to the pews across the aisle.

“I was waiting for that,” Zeke muttered next to me. “You’re not in trouble; they’re just going to ask you some questions to see if they can figure out where Jacob is.”

I nodded, though Declan was glaring at me as the deacon approached.

“Andres,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You need to come with us.”

I swallowed, glancing at Zeke before nodding. I got up, passing over Zeke, Dreama, and the other surrogates in the pew with us until I was in the aisle, the deacon there to guide me to the door. I saw the other deacon talk to Serenity, sitting with a small group of women who were praying.

We passed the door, Declan’s eyes narrowing at me as the deacon pointed to the table and told me sit down. I made my way over there, surprised to see Evan sitting there. He stood up, reaching a hand towards me. I hesitated before taking it, letting him pull me into a hug.

“You don’t need to be frightened,” he said in my ear, the low rumble of his voice in his chest oddly comforting. “Just tell them the truth, okay? Then we can go home.”

I nodded, letting Evan break our hug to guide us to sit down. Serenity came out soon after, walking over to us. Evan gestured for her to sit on his other side, and she did.

“Mike is still on her way back,” he told her. “All the deacons need is the truth, and then we’ll all go back to the house.”

Serenity looked terrified, but she nodded. Her eyes met mine, and there was a pause as we both tried to mentally comfort each other.

“Alright,” the deacon who came for me said, walking up to us. The other deacon and Declan were right behind him. “We just have a few questions for you two. Just answer us honestly and we can be on our way. Did either of you have any idea that Jacob was planning this?”

I shook my head, and I didn’t have to look to know that Serenity was doing the same thing.

“We need verbal answers, you two,” the deacon said, frowning at us both. Declan looked pissed.

“No,” I said immediately. “Jacob doesn’t seem interested in talking to me, so I had no idea he was going to do this.”

The deacon looked at Declan, who half shrugged at that. The other deacon spoke up then.

“Andres, could you elaborate on that? You lived with him; surely you spoke with him.”

“A little here and there,” I said, frowning. “But he worked weird hours due to his job. He typically spent evenings in his room with Declan. And at meals, he’s usually not sitting near me.”

“Did you speak with him this morning?”

I didn’t want to answer that. Evan wrapped an arm around my waist, squeezing my side sharply. I winced before nodding.

“A little. Or, rather, I tried. I could see he was upset—he wasn’t eating. I tried to say something to him, but he wouldn’t really talk to me. Two surrogates came up and started talking to him, and then he left with them. They headed to the kitchens, or in that direction, so I assumed that they worked there with him.”

The deacon nodded, seeming satisfied with that. He turned to Serenity.

“How about you, young lady? Can you provide us more insight?”

Serenity let out a heavy breath, glancing up at Evan, then Declan. She shrugged.

“He didn’t really like Andres,” she said. I started. That was news to me. She shook her head before continuing. “He’s mad about a lot of things. He’d sometimes talk to me a bit. Mostly to complain.”

“Complain about what?” Declan demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Serenity visibly bristled at that. Evan put a hand on her shoulder.

“We just need to understand why he did this,” Evan said, sounding reasonable. “And maybe get some clues on where he could have gone.” 

Tears welled up in Serenity’s eyes, and she wiped at them, shaking her head.

“He just doesn’t like it here!” she said, pausing to sniff away tears. “He’s miserable here. He hates working in the kitchens, and he hates having to—” she cut herself off, looking up at Declan again. “And he doesn’t like having to perform his _marital duties_ in the bedroom. He doesn’t like being here.”

“Did he ever talk about trying to escape?” one of the deacon’s asked.

Serenity let out a sigh and then nodded. “Often.”

“Did he ever try to recruit you?”

Serenity closed her eyes at that, nodding again.

“And yet he ran without you,” Declan said, as if trying to insult her. “Why?”

“He didn’t have a smart plan,” she said, glowering up at Declan. “He thought if he left and found the police, they would listen to him and help him get back to the city. But I’m not an idiot; we signed marriage certificates. And I’m sure that the authorities would have that on file and just bring us back here.”

“You’re speaking with hostility there, Serenity,” one of the deacons said to her, his voice sounding patient. Like talking to a petulant child. “As though your hand was forced in this.”

“Of course, it was,” Serenity snapped, not holding back. “You had a metaphorical gun to my head. Maybe it would have turned real if I had fought. I don’t know. What I do know is I’m in no rush to die, so I’d rather be forced to be your baby making machine then dead!”

I felt the way Evan tensed next to me. The way all the men, even Declan, tensed. I knew what they were wanting to do: they wanted to discipline her. Punish her for speaking out of turn. For pointing out that they were rapists and murderers. For pulling the veil back from the happy society they liked to pretend the Willows was. 

I put a hand on Evan’s knee, just to remind him that I was here. He relaxed a bit, glancing down at me. His arm moved to wrap around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug, which he topped off with a kiss on the top of my head. The gesture broke the tension; the deacons relaxed, and Declan turned his back to Serenity to calm himself.

“I will ensure Michaela addresses her outburst,” Evan said. He turned to Serenity. “So you knew his plans to escape, but didn’t say anything. Did you know he intended to drag two unmarried surrogates into it as well?”

“That I didn’t know,” Serenity said, her voice softer now. She looked down at the ground. “He tried to get me to run with him a few times, but when I told him his plan wouldn’t work, he stopped talking to me about it all together.”

“And when was that?” one of the deacons asked. “The last time he talked to you about running?”

“Weeks ago. Like two, two and a half?”

“The boys he’s with would know better than to reach out to the police,” one of the deacons said, speaking to the other men. “We should still reach out to them.”

“They had to have had help,” Evan noted, thinking. “Especially if we haven’t found them yet.”

“I know where they are,” Declan said, turning around. “It’s the beginning of the week; today was the kitchen’s delivery day.”

The deacons looked at each other and nodded, turning to walk away. Declan followed them, almost stomping. I let out a breath now that they were gone. Evan stood, pulling me with him.

“Let’s go,” he said to both Serenity and me. “You two can wait for him at home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot about y'all again lol. God, idk what my deal is. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed. No real notes tonight: I'm just uber tired and ready for bed. See you all for the conclusion tomorrow! Please, please, PLEASE leave me some comments! :3


	33. Chapter 33

“I’m so fucking stupid!”

Serenity paced the living room, messing with the ends of her hair. She’d been crying for a few hours, upset over the information she gave to the deacons. Once her tears dried up, she resorted to walking around in circles, berating herself.

I was honestly exhausted of trying to talk her off the ledge, repeating again and again that none of this was her fault. I sat on a loveseat, staring at the empty mantel while she rambled. I was so ready for this day to be over.

“If they find him, it’s all my fault,” she lamented, fresh tears hitting her eyes. “I should have lied! Why did I tell the truth?”

“You’re not doing him any favors lying for him,” I told her for the eightieth time. “He’s better here than out there.”

“How do you know? He could have made it back to the city by now! But now they’re going to stop anyone trying to go into the city. Or something. Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything!”

I sighed. Evan had pulled me into our room when we first got back to the house. He quietly fucked me for some godawful reason I didn’t want to know, before sitting me down and explain in excruciating details how stupid it was for Jacob to run. Primarily due to him being a surrogate.

It was easy to forget how horrific the surrogacy system in the Nation was. The Willows wasn’t any better: we were still raped and expected to have babies for the Nation. But it was still different. Not better, just less aggressive. Evan tried to tell me that we were beloved and treated well in the Willows. And I knew my disagreement on that matter wouldn’t matter. So I just nodded, and agreed when he asked me to help Serenity understand.

Serenity did not understand. As soon as Evan left, her walls fell down and she became an emotional mess. She cried, blamed herself, got mad at Jacob for not talking to her, got mad at me for whatever I’d done to piss him off, then blamed herself again. She didn’t want to hear that Jacob was better off here; that we all were. All she saw was Jacob’s one chance of freedom being snatched away.

“Declan’s going to hurt him!” she said, rounding on me. “You know he is! More than how he normally does it. What if he kills him?”

“They’re not going to kill him,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “Declan doesn’t mind taking responsibility for him.”

“But this is different. And he dragged two other boys into it? Oh my god, what’s going to happen to them? All of them? And us? What if—”

The door opened, grabbing our attention. We both froze, looking at the entrance to the room. There were numerous footsteps, grunting and low voices giving orders. I swallowed, finally standing to face whatever was coming.

Declan was the first one to round the corner, barely glancing at Serenity and me before throwing his arm forward and tossing Jacob on the ground. Jacob cried out as he hit the ground, though he looked fine aside from that.

“Jacob!” Serenity cried, falling on the ground and pulling Jacob into a deep hug.

I stood where I was, watching Evan walk in, Mike right behind him. The six deacons filed in, as did four other men all wearing black. They reminded me of the day we were taken; one of the men was still holding a gun. Father, closely followed by Mother, were the last to enter. I swallowed, feeling my stomach tighten as all eyes fell on Jacob and Serenity.

“Ren,” Mike said, her voice low and a warning. “Come here, please.”

Serenity looked up at her, consternation on her face. It was clear she didn’t want to let go of Jacob. And I could see her consider disobeying. There was a lot of tension in the room, everyone waiting to see what Serenity would do.

“Andres,” Evan said next to Mike. He didn’t give another order; he just held out his hand towards me.

I swallowed, immediately walking over to Evan and taking his hand. He pulled me into his arms, kissing my temple.

“Good boy,” he muttered in my ear.

He let go, guiding me to stand by him. Serenity watched us, frowning. She gave Jacob another squeeze before finally letting go. As she stood, I realized that Evan had called me to be an example; to encourage Serenity to obey Mike. I hated that he used me like that, but I was also a bit relieved it worked. As Serenity settled in Mike’s arms, taking her place next to Mike, I was aware of how much the tension in the room deescalated.

At least a little.

“Jacob,” Father said to him as Declan stood behind Jacob, facing the rest of us. “What you did today was inexcusable.”

Jacob scowled at Father, his breath steady.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Father asked him, sounding disappointed.

“If what I did was inexcusable,” Jacob said, his voice calm and controlled, “then what is the point in trying to explain it?”

“Smartass,” one of the men in black muttered, glowering at him.

Jacob immediately turned to him, his scowl a full-on glare now.

“That’s not the first time in my life that I’ve heard that.”

Declan moved then, kneeling behind Jacob and gripping the back of his neck. Jacob winced, attempting to move away, though failing at it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Declan growled. Mother made a sharp intake of breath at the curse word, but no one said anything about it. “You run away and then have the nerve to disrespect the men who were kind enough to find you?”

“Get off of me!” Jacob cried, twisting out of his grip and shoving Declan away. Declan took it in stride, using the push to roll back to his feet. “I’m so sick and tired of you fucking touching me!”

Declan’s face went blank. He walked over to the men in black, holding out his hand. One of them pulled out a small, cylinder item. Declan gripped it, flicking his wrist to the side. It expanded into a small, rather thin baton. I tensed, suddenly understanding: Declan was about to beat Jacob. Right now. Right here. In front of everyone.

Declan turned towards me and Serenity, not moving from his spot.

“He’s going to need help.”

It was an order. To do what, though, I wasn’t fully sure. Or, rather, I did know, but I wanted to feign confusion. That would be better than just moving and doing what Declan wanted. I looked at Serenity, who looked just as confused as I did. Though there was a question on her face. Our wedding came to mind, where we were offered “help” then too.

Was this a thing with the Willows? Was “help” always holding someone down for something unpleasant? I looked at Jacob, his glare faltering as he looked at the baton in Declan’s hand. What was he thinking in that moment? Was he afraid?

“Rumi,” Father said suddenly, his voice calming.

It was all he needed to say to get Mother moving. She walked over to Serenity and me. Her face was clear of the annoyance and disdain I was so used to seeing from her; instead, she was calm and sympathetic. She took our wrists, nodding once at us, and dragging us from our spots with a few small steps. Her message was clear: follow her lead.

She let go, walking over to Jacob. Jacob watched her like a hawk, leaning away from her when she kneeled down in front of him. Serenity and I also kneeled down, one of us on each side. Jacob regarded us suspiciously. I just felt lost.

“You need to calm down,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. Not at all biting or filled with sarcasm. “This can’t be the first time he’s beaten you.”

Jacob took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes moving back up to Declan. Only once we surrounded him did Declan move again, circling us until he was behind Jacob.

“Shhhh,” Mother said, grabbing Jacob’s face and turning it back to her. “Do you understand why you need to be punished?”

“Let go of me,” Jacob told her, pulling his face away. “I don’t—”

“Shhhh,” Mother said again, placing a hand over one of Jacob’s. “It’s fine. Your husband will help you understand.”

Jacob blinked at her, obviously trying to make sense of that. Mother used her other hand to reach for Serenity’s hand, moving it until it replaced the one she had on Jacob’s hand. She then turned to me, reaching out her hand towards me. I hesitated, not wanting to do this. Knowing exactly what she was guiding us to do.

All the men were watching. I glanced up at Evan, saw him watching me closely. I let out a heavy breath, putting my hand in Mother’s. I let her guide it to Jacob’s other hand, holding it in front of him. Mother placed her hands on top of ours, looking at all three of us before speaking again.

“He wants to fight,” she said, her words meant for me and Serenity. Maybe a little to Jacob too, but her eyes only danced between the two of us. “If he fights too hard, Declan will hurt him unnecessarily. You need to keep him still, so he doesn’t get hurt more than he needs to be.”

Serenity let out a small sob, shaking her head as she fought back tears. But when Mother lifted her hands, neither of us moved. And when Jacob tested us, trying to pull away, we held firm. I hated that I was doing this. I saw the way Jacob realized what we were supposed to do.

“Let me go,” he told us, trying to pull away. “Stop it!”

His hand almost slipped under my grip, so I grabbed his wrist and kept it still. When he tried to pull away from Serenity, she did the same.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hush, love,” Mother said, moving to stand. “He needs you to be strong right now. To show him how to obey. You’re not hurting him; you’re _helping_ him.”

Serenity sniffed as Mother got up and moved behind Jacob. I watched her as she moved her hands to the back of Jacob’s neck, pulling down the zipper on the back of his tunic. Jacob’s breath picked up then, coming in shallow and panicked. He closed his eyes, obviously trying to block this all out. Mother stopped at Jacob’s waist, gently pushing his sleeves, and most of the shirt, down until it pooled over where Serenity and I were holding Jacob down. His entire back was exposed.

Mother got up, moving back in front of us. Only then did Declan move, getting in range and lifting the baton. I was glad that Jacob couldn’t see it. His eyes were closed and his mouth was moving, his words silent on his lips.

“Time and time again,” Mother said, her eyes on Declan behind us, “does the Lord command us as wives to submit to our husbands. In Hebrews, He says ‘obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls—’”

Declan brought the baton down, the impact making a horrific _whack_ against Jacob’s back. He cried out, leaning forward, though Declan was there with another smack. I watched, wincing, wanting so badly to stop this. Why was I just sitting here? Even if I couldn’t stop it, I could still protest. Why was I just sitting there, holding Jacob down, and saying nothing to stop this?

“‘Let them do this with joy and not with groaning,’” Mother said, continuing her drones of quotes, “‘for that would be of no advantage to you.’”

Jacob’s eyes stayed closed, tears leaking despite that. I glanced at his back, saw it turning red with welts. As Declan continued his assault, I even saw places where the skin broke, blood slowly spilling from the wounds. Jacob didn’t beg for Declan to stop, and no one told Declan that he was too aggressive. That his strikes were too hard. That he shouldn’t be breaking the skin.

Was this the way the Willows worked? Was it because of Jacob’s sin that they tolerated how horrifically Declan was beating him? Or was this the standard? Would Evan ever beat me like this? My breath caught and I turned to Declan.

I expected to see the same gleeful expression he normally took when he had a reason to discipline Jacob. If one could call it that. But Declan’s face was calm, controlled, and focused. He had a task, and he was simply executing it. He took no joy from it, no pleasure. No arousal.

Serenity’s grip faltered, and Jacob immediately took his hand back. But instead of pushing and shoving and fighting, he just brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at his wet eyes. I glanced at Mother, who had stopped her incessant chanting and looked quite pleased with what just happened. I understood what she was happy about: Jacob was done fighting.

“You’re okay,” I said, muttering in Jacob’s ear. “I know it hurts, but you’re doing such a great job, Jacob.”

Jacob’s breath hitched at that, a sob threatening to escape. Serenity glanced at me warily before leaning in herself.

“He’s right, Jacob,” she said, her voice faltering. Still, she pressed on. “You’re doing such a good job submitting to this.”

Jacob did let out a sob then, his shoulders shaking. Declan stopped just long enough to switch hands before beginning his assault again.

“Everyone’s mad at me,” Jacob whined, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want everyone to hate me.”

“The Lord calls on us to forgive,” Mother said, leaning forward and stroking his arm. “Wives are always pardoned through their submission to their husbands. As the Lord God will forgive you, we as a community will forgive this transgression. You will grow from this, child. We all will.”

Jacob opened his eyes then, his gaze still on the ground in front of him and tears still pouring. But he nodded then. I felt so sad for him, like I let him down. He was literally being beaten into submission, and I was encouraging it.

And it was working.

As Declan continued the beating, the men watching in silent approval while Jacob himself silently cried through it, all I could think was how horribly I had failed Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all almost got left on read AGAIN lol. Idk what the fuck my issue is. Ugh, this is why uploading once a week is such a problem for me. 
> 
> So, what do you think? I hope this wasn't anticlimactic. :( This isn't quite the end of this saga. Jacob's punishment, so to speak, isn't over. Buuuuuuut at least he's safe, right? RIGHT? 
> 
> Ahhh. Poor baby. I'm an ass for what I'm doing to him. 
> 
> So, just a reminder that all CONSISTENT updates will be the first of the month, though. 
> 
> However, after this heavy chapter, I'm not leaving y'all hanging. Next chapter is a lighter one, and I had fun writing it tbqh. And since I'm off, I think I'll upload it on Wednesday for you all! 
> 
> After that, I think I'll upload another chapter, and update Hell Is Just a Matter of Perspective on Friday. And between then and September, no promises lol. But I intend to pop in occasionally. 
> 
> I hope you guys have a great month. And, as always, please leave me comments and feed my ego. I always respond! Even if it takes me a few days lol.


	34. Chapter 34

“Oooh, what’s the champagne for?”

I smiled, looking around the studio. It was wide and spacious, as most studios were, with a white drop against the wall in one corner, lights and a few tripods standing in front of it. In another corner was a large desk with multiple computers, drawing tablets, and another tripod. Near the windows were barstools in front of easels, canvases on them. The sun was high and bright, giving beautiful lighting. There were some couches and coffee tables scattered around, a small kitchen next to the door with an island table filled with coffee and espresso machines, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit.

Shawn closed the door behind me, looking at the bottle I had handed him on my way in.

“I’m celebrating, actually,” I told him, watching him place the champagne bottle on the island. He moved around the cabinets, pulling out two flutes. A bougie studio apartment that obviously was used by a bunch of other young artists having champagne flutes around? Seemed typical. “I just got some great news.”

“Oh?” Shawn said, putting the glasses down. “Do share.”

“I’ve been house hunting, and I put an offer in on this house. I was there earlier, actually, showing it to my parents. While we were there, my realtor got the call that the owners accepted my bid. We just have to make sure the bank approves it, and that the inspections all go through, which I’m sure they will, and I’m officially a homeowner.”

“Wow,” Shawn said, smiling as he leaned against the island. “Congrats. I’d never want to buy a house myself, but you must be excited. I hope.”

I laughed, grabbing the bottle, and moving to open it.

“What’s your beef with homeownership?” I said, not that I was judging. I was still lowkey mortified by the prospect of it myself.

“Houses remind me of my old home,” Shawn said, shrugging. “Like, the family I was bought into. Their house was huge. But even a small one, I think, would just take me back there. There is freedom in renting and squatting.

I popped open the top, Shawn clapping at the fact that it didn’t immediately bubble over. I poured us each plenty to get us started. I lifted my glass.

“I’ll cheers to that,” I said. “Freedom in renting.”

“And congratulations,” Shawn said, lifting his own glass. “My own hang ups shouldn’t take away this momentous occasion.”

“Thank you,” I said as we clinked our glasses together and drank.

Shawn finished his flute easily, already refilling it while I looked around the studio.

“How many people do you share this space with?” I asked.

“It’s like a timeshare situation,” Shawn said. “It’s about ten of us? We all split the rent and just let each other know when we need the space. Depending on what someone is doing, it’s not that big of a deal if more of us are here. Like last night, I came in to do some sketches while this guy, Caiden, did some video stuff. He films vlogs and stuff for companies to promote on social media, so he usually hooks up his headphones and just tunes everything out. And then this one girl Nikki is a fashion blogger.”

“Ew,” I said, smirking in my glass.

“I know. But she does real photo shoots for her OOTD’s, and she’s won some awards for her blog. So, you know, it’s working. She was here earlier with her boyfriend—he’s her photographer because that’s totally going to end well. I wasn’t in the way with my work then either.”

“That’s kind of cool,” I said, finishing my glass and pouring myself more. “I’m not particularly creative, but I do appreciate the arts.”

“Oh yeah, what do you do again?” Shawn said, smirking. “You’re, like, looking for the cure for cancer?”

“Not exactly,” I said, laughing. “But it would be cool if I did stumble upon that.”

“Oh!” Shawn said, suddenly, putting his glass down. “Come look at what I was working on.”

I followed Shawn to an easel right in front of one of the large windows, his paints still out and his brushes in a cup of water. I smiled, recognizing it as a sketch of the group from the other night. Or, rather, a drawing. It was more fleshed out, more detailed, with about a third of it painted over it with acrylic.

“Wow,” I said, tilting my head at it. “It’s got a nice effect. You did that with just paint?”

“After I drew it out and detailed it, I went over it with charcoal,” Shawn explained, pointing to the parts that wasn’t painted yet. “Now I’m going over it with paint, and it’s helping to give this nice faded look. I like to think it looks shaky.”

“Hazy,” I agreed. “Very cool.”

“That’s just an experiment,” Shawn admitted, moving to mess with the canvases against the wall under the window. “I’m really better at portraits.”

He lifted one, and I saw it was of a young man who looked a lot like him. Only he looked a bit older than Shawn, his hair longer and with a beard. He was shirtless, and looking down. Shawn used mostly greys and dark blues, with pops of red here and there. It was stunning.

“Wow,” I said as Shawn sat it back down on the ground, facing us now.

“Yeah, I used a bit of acrylic with that, but it’s mostly spray paint and charcoal with a bit of graphite. I like working with that most. Isn’t he handsome?”

“Who is he?” I asked.

“My big brother. He’s still alive; don’t worry. He’s actually the one who helped get me out of the Nation. He was in the army, and he kinda had a bit of a meltdown after some bullshit in Mexico. He came back to the Nation, found me, kidnapped me, and then brought me here. It was kinda crazy and scary, but he agreed to get help when we got here, so we’re all working on it. He had to go back to inpatient last month, and so I was thinking about him.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, standing up.

Shawn shrugged, looking at the picture fondly. “I’m not. Even though I wasn’t expecting any of it, I’m here now because of him. He’s able to get help now because of what happened. And it’s not like he ever hurt me. It all works out in the end.”

“So I hear,” I muttered.

Shawn turned the canvas again, leaning it against the windowsill.

“He doesn’t need to watch me fuck.”

I laughed at that, letting Shawn grab my hand and pull me closer.

“Wait,” I told him, putting a hand on his chest. “We gotta talk first.”

“Oh shit,” Shawn said, letting go of me. “Did you come all the way here just to tell me you can’t do this for some tragic reason?”

“Oh no, we’re totally doing this,” I said, smiling. “I just have to be upfront and tell you that this is going to be the _only_ time we’re able to do this.”

“Oh, wow. Is it because your pussy is so bomb I’m going to have a heart attack and die after? Because I didn’t sign up for that.”

“I’m actually surprised that’s never happened to me. I _am_ that good.”

Shawn laughed, and I let the joke break the tension.

“But,” I continued, “I actually did kinda get with someone. Like, seriously. He’s going to move down here in a few months and we’re technically dating now. And it literally happened right after I agreed to come here, but I really wanted to do this, and so my boyfriend said he was cool with this one time, but it has to be a one-time thing, and I don’t know how you feel about that, so if you don’t like—”

“Whoa,” Shawn said, putting a hand over my mouth. “One thing at a time, killer.”

“Sorry,” I said, chuckling a bit. “I’ve never done this before, honestly.”

“What? Have an open relationship?”

“No. Have a monogamous one. This is my one and only pass; that’s how special you are.”

“Awww,” Shawn said, smiling at me. “I’d be happy to be your last hurrah before settling down. Though I do have a confession myself.”

I raised an eyebrow waiting. “Not bad, I hope.”

“Depends, I guess.” Shawn shrugged before moving and taking off his shirt. He glanced at the window behind him. “I’m a bit of an exhibitionist.”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Okay,” I said slowly. Waiting.

“Not overly, but I do like fucking in front of these windows whenever I can.”

I glanced outside them, seeing the tall apartment buildings surrounding us with their many tiny windows.

“Like, how close in front of them?” I asked.

“Like, I want you pressed against the glass while I fuck you from behind.”

My stomach fluttered at that. I nodded, looking at him.

“So you like to show off who you’re fucking more than you like to show yourself off.”

“I guess.” Shawn seemed to consider it. “Yeah.”

“Is your photographer buddy going to be in one of the apartments taking pictures?”

Shawn smirked at that. “Cute. But we film in-house.”

He nodded to the cameras. They did look expensive. And that did make more sense. What’s the point of having nice cameras if you weren’t going to use them? I glanced back out the windows. I couldn’t see inside anyone’s apartments, but I could make out a cat across the way, sitting on the sill and licking itself. If I were against the window, someone would definitely see.

“It’s not even an ‘if’ thing,” I said, turning back to Shawn. “Someone is _going_ to see me.”

“I’m not going to try to convince you,” Shawn said with a lazy shrug. “If you’re really not into it, I know for a fact that the couches are very comfortable.”

“And black,” I frowned, glancing at them. They would show every bit of how dirty we’d likely get. “I’ll try most things once. But I swear to God, if I see a child peeking through some curtains—”

“We can stop any time you want,” Shawn promised, inching closer. “Your call.”

I nodded, satisfied with that. Shawn stepped forward, kissing me roughly. I sighed, relaxing into his hold. Shawn, I quickly realized, was very experienced. He didn’t use too much tongue, but he bit my bottom lip pleasantly ever so often. While we were kissing, he expertly helped me out of my shirt, tossing it on the floor before moving to take his pants off.

Before I knew it, we were both naked, feeling and groping at each other. I gripped Shawn’s hips, pulling him closer so I could feel his dick harden against my own. Shawn had one hand at my chest, twisting one of my nipples, while the other was teasing my pussy. He pushed a finger in, just a little, and I gasped against his lips. I hated being teased like that; if he was going to finger me, he should do it properly.

“You didn’t even flinch at that,” Shawn said in my ear.

“I’ve taken much bigger than that,” I bragged, glancing down between us. Speaking of which. “Though I wasn’t expecting _that_.”

Shawn wasn’t as big as Evan, but he was still pretty big. Compared to my hardening dick against his, he was almost twice as long as me, and noticeably thicker. No monster, but bigger than any other surrogate I’d seen. Shawn caught me staring and laughed, pulling his dick back and letting go so that it slapped against my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Thought I’d have a baby dick like yours?”

“Shut up!” I said, though I knew he was joking. I pretended to push him away for it and Shawn pretended to hold me in place. “My dick is not that small. Yours is just bigger than it should be.”

“Whatever helps you feel better,” Shawn said, pulling away. “Hold up. Lemme grab something.”

Shawn turned, heading to the kitchen. He started rummaging through the drawers, pulling out random condoms. I laughed as I watched him.

“You guys keep the condoms in kitchen?”

Shawn smiled as he walked back, gesturing widely. “Honey, there is lube and condoms and handcuffs and whips and sex toys stashed all over this place.”

I dramatically rolled my eyes, leaning until my back hit the window. It was freezing cold, but I knew that wasn’t going to be an issue in a minute.

“Fucking artists,” I said, watching Shawn approach. “Can’t be normal.”

“Why be normal when you can be depraved?”

Shawn silenced any retort with another kiss, dumping the condoms on the sill next to me. He paused long enough to move the easel and chair. Instead of resuming his kiss, however, Shawn dropped to his knees in front of me. He gobbled my dick down his throat so quickly and hungrily that I didn’t even have time to register what he was doing.

Shawn was very experienced with _that_ too. I wasn’t at all used to receiving head, and I felt helpless leaning against the sill, gripping the edges for some level of purchase. Shawn licked up and down, before focusing on the head. He jerked me off at the same time, fingers finding their way inside me again. All I could hear were the sounds of him sucking, and my heavy breath as I watched him.

“There you go,” Shawn said after popping off once I was leaking and at full mast. He removed his fingers and licked them with a smile. “I like my bottoms nice and desperate when I fuck them.”

“And what makes you think I’m desperate?” I challenged as he stood up.

He smiled as he turned me around, pressing my hips against the sill. His hands traced up and down my back, scratching my lightly.

“You talk a lot,” Shawn said, gripping my ass, massaging it possessively. “And yet you didn’t have anything to say while I was blowing you.”

“I just wanted to let you focus,” I told him. He slid a hand down between my legs, fingers tracing along my cunt. I spread my legs wider. “Most people find talking distracting.”

“I think you like talking to feel in charge. That’s fine. I know how to shut you up.”

“Doubt it. My kink is being sarcastic instead of dirty ta—”

Shawn slipped two fingers inside, effectively doing exactly what I thought he wouldn’t manage. I let out a shaky breath as he pushed his fingers in and out, quickly setting a rough pace. He didn’t seem too concerned with hitting my g spot, which I was fine with for now.

Had to maintain some level of control over myself.

Shawn kissed the back of my neck, then my nape, then down my spine. While he distracted me with that, he pushed another finger inside. I moaned against the stretch, quickly finding myself pushing back to meet his thrusts. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed it deeper, faster, ha—

“Looking pretty desperate, I’d say,” Shawn said in my ear. A chill went down my spine as he removed his fingers. “Touch your pretty pussy and tell me how much you’re leaking.”

“I’m not,” I lied. Because I didn’t have to touch myself to know that. I could feel myself on my thighs.

Shawn gripped one of my ass cheeks, hard. My breath caught at the display of dominance. I couldn’t imagine Shawn as a surrogate in the Nation: he seemed in his element holding the reigns.

“I said to touch yourself and tell me how wet you are.”

I debated fighting him more on that. I liked a power struggle. And Shawn knew just how wet I was after fingering me. But before I could make my decision, Shawn grabbed one of my hands, pulling in down until my fingers were right in front of crotch. I let out a shaky breath before doing what he said and sticking a few fingers in me.

I was sopping wet. And so warm. Shawn didn’t let go of my wrist until I started moving, fingering myself for him. I kept going even when he moved to grab one of the condoms. I moaned as I heard the foil tear, waiting for him to tell me I could stop.

“Now, how wet are you?” he asked me one last time. And he sounded like that was going to be his last time asking.

“Very wet.” He gripped my ass, his dick hard against me. “Dripping wet. It’s down my thighs and just everywhere. I’m so—”

Shawn grabbed my wrist again, pulling me out of myself and bringing my fingers up so he could lick them. I tried to catch my breath as he greedily sucked them, tasting me fully. I was so distracted by that that he managed to slip his dick in me about halfway before I realized he was finally inside me.

I let out a moan, and Shawn took my fingers out of his mouth so he could kiss me properly on my lips. He entered me forcefully, my pussy throbbing as it tried to accommodate him quickly. He hit a sore spot, and I tried to pull back a bit, but Shawn grabbed my hips and forced me down until I’d taken him to the hilt.

“Shit,” I muttered, trying to catch my breath in the second before he really started to move.

Relentless, Shawn started thrusting in and out of me like a pro. I gasped, leaning against the window, panting against the glass. I couldn’t see anything in front of me, couldn’t make sure no one was watching me. All I could see was the fog against the window, too distracted by how good Shawn was fucking me to focus on any other sense.

From this position, I had to really come down on Shawn’s dick; meaning he was hitting me deep. And every now and then he’d roll his hips in circles that drove my wild. I felt helpless underneath him. So utterly distracted by his body heavy and pressed against my back.

One of his hands came around and gripped my dick. I opened my mouth to say something, but only a strangled groan escaped my lips as he started jerking me off in tandem with his thrusts.

“Look pretty desperate now,” he muttered in my ear savagely. My stomach fluttered at his words. “Are you desperate, Andres?”

I nodded, too far gone to keep up my earlier rouse.

“You like my dick?”

I nodded again.

“You want to come on my dick, Andres?”

“Yes, please,” I managed, aware of how sweet and polite I sounded. My previous haughtiness was completely gone.

Shawn groaned in my ear at that, obviously liking that.

“Aren’t you sweet? But you can beg better than that, can’t you? I know you know how to ask properly.”

“Please,” I gasped, feeling like I was going to explode. “Please, Shawn, please let me come. Please. I want to come with your dick fucking me so hard. Please, please, please, I want to come. _Please_.”

Shawn moaned, gripping my hips hard as he changed angles. When he slammed into me, it was like heaven. It was perfect. He knew exactly were to fuck me to drive me crazy this entire time: he just wanted to tease me.

Fucking bastard.

And it worked. I brought a hand up to the window, moaning so loudly that I was sure the neighbors could hear me. I was sure people walking along the street far below us could hear me. Shawn reached up, wrapping a hand over mine.

I wasn’t sure if it was that sweet gesture, or the simple fact that he was fucking me so perfectly, but that brought me over the edge. My vision went white as I came, my legs getting weak. Shawn kept fucking me through it, not slowing down even when my vision returned.

I whimpered, helpless under his ruthless thrusts. I was too sensitive. I needed him to slow down.

“Please,” I moaned, pulling away a little. “Please. Shawn, it’s too much.”

He didn’t stop. “I’m almost there. You can hold out just a little longer, right baby?”

I wanted to. So I nodded, even though I felt like I was going to die. My dick was still hard and twitching. Shawn went even harder, even faster, muttering in my ear how good I felt, how perfect I was, how close he was.

Then he pushed in, hitting me deep, but his hips stilling as he came. I took a few calming breaths, still feeling out of it. I felt like I was floating, treading water while Shawn gave a few more lazy thrusts before pulling out entirely. He collapsed against me, his breath on my neck. I looked outside, finally, and didn’t see anyone in the windows across from us. Not even the cat from earlier.

I wasn’t sure if I was happy or disappointed that no one had seen us.

We stayed like that for about a minute before Shawn moved to dispose of his condom. Only then did I let my legs give out, all but collapsing to the floor. When Shawn got back, he looked concerned, kneeling down.

“Sorry,” he said, handing me a bottle of water. It was a fancy brand that claimed its water came from a spring in Sweden. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said after downing half of the bottle at once. “It’s totally not fair I only get today to do that with you.”

“Aw. I got you drunk on my cock.”

“Shut up before I dunk the rest of this on you,” I laughed.

“We’ll just have the make the most of it,” Shawn said with a shrug. He leaned against the wall next to me, playing with his still hard dick. “I got plenty more in me. Guess your pussy game isn’t as destructive as you thought.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

It really was a shame that I wouldn’t be able to fuck Shawn after this. Still, even after this, I felt like Lyle was worth it. And he was nice enough to be cool with this. Speaking of which…

“It is a challenge.” Shawn smiled.

“I like challenges,” I told him honestly. “But before we do that, I do need a favor.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded towards the DSLR cameras still set up on tripods in the corner.

“Your roommate or whatever who uses those. Will they get mad if we use them?”

Shawn’s smile grew at that. “Nah, as long as we use their backup SD cards. Why? You trying to film a porno?”

“Yeah, actually,” I admitted. “My boyfriend had a stipulation that I had to take a few pictures of me getting fucked to send to him. I was going to have you just take a few on my phone, but if we can get something higher quality, I’d like to go that route.”

Shawn looked impressed. “So your boyfriend’s kinky too? I like that.”

“I don’t know if it’s that, or if he’d feel too guilty watching porn now that we’re together that he figured he’d start a spank collection featuring me.” I thought about it. “Yeah, it’s probably that.”

“Not bad,” Shawn said standing. “I’ve helped Nikki enough to know how to use them. But before we do that, I have an important question: what’s your head game like?”

I smiled up at Shawn. How convenient that I was on the floor right now.

“Better than yours,” I told him.

Shawn gripped his dick, walking until he was right in front of me.

“Prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to post this yesterday, but Comcast was having major outage issues the past two days. It was still fucking up this morning, but it fixed itself by the time I got home from running errands. 
> 
> Today was exhausting, and I'm just too tired to give a long to do. So we'll just hit the points quickly. 
> 
> I think I'm getting better with sex scenes, but god do I hate reading them back. I don't know why: I LOVE reading other people's sex scenes. Maybe it's because I'm too close to these characters, so it feels like writing about my own children having sex. Or something. idk. 
> 
> Reading this back was hell. I was shit posting on tumblr just to not do it lol. Ahhhhh. 
> 
> That's all for now. See you all whenever! Leave comments. I intend on responding to them tomorrow. I'm just too tired to do it now. So leave more for me to have to respond to! Lol. 
> 
> Night night!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath...

Evan had taken off work so he could spend the day fucking me. I woke up with his dick in me, and he’d come inside me at least four times since then. And that was including breaks. I bounced on his dick, desperate to make him hurry up and come again.

It was getting easier to take him. It still hurt at first, but I adjusted a lot quicker than I used to. And I wasn’t sore despite how hard we’d been going. I wasn’t sure why he was doing this: it was like _I_ was being punished for Jacob’s escape attempt the day before.

For the most part, all wives were supposed to be inside their homes today. I did see a few walking around, and the ones on kitchen duty had to make sure everyone had perfectly proportioned meals on their kitchen tables three times a day. Jacob had attempted to go to the kitchen for lunch prep, but he’d been tossed out. The last time I had a break, I saw him sitting outside at the table, just watching the men who were working on the new church building.

At breakfast in the kitchen, Declan and Jacob were absent. Mike and Evan had chatted like nothing was wrong, talking about how nice it was to have a day off with their wives. Serenity was quiet the entire time.

Afterwards, Evan had insisted on fucking me until lunch. But even he had his limits. He was getting tired, so he let me ride him. He preferred fucking me on my back, or on my hands and knees to spice things up. I preferred being on top. I had more control, and it gave me purchase so I didn’t feel quite so helpless.

Evan, however, didn’t seem to like the pace I was setting. He slapped my ass, twice, before gripping my hips. I stopped, catching my breath while I waited for his warning.

“Keep this up,” he said, “and I’m going to throw you over my knee and spank you before fucking you myself.”

I hated when he threatened me like that. It didn’t seem fair. I wasn’t a child, and I was riding him like he told me to! Still, I took a deep breath in and out, and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” I said sweetly. “I’m trying. What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re trying to go slow,” Evan told me, looking a bit surprised I had asked. “Would I fuck you this slowly?”

I shook my head. “No. You’re rough with me.”

“I’m not rough. I fuck you the way a wife should be. Don’t I?”

I nodded. Sure. Why not?

“Then fuck yourself on my dick properly, or I’ll do it myself. And if I have to do that, I’m not going to let you ride me again.”

He rarely let me ride him as it was. Still, rarely was better than never. So, I adjusted myself, pushing myself up and spreading my legs a bit wider.

“Yes, sir,” I said before I started bouncing in his lap properly.

Evan watched me as I fucked myself, and I could tell I still wasn’t doing it right. I put my hands on his shoulder, trying to go faster and harder. It hurt like this. It was hard to not stop or slow myself down at that speed. But Evan seemed satisfied with that, touching my cheek.

“See?” he said, a bit breathless. “You know how I like it. Such a good boy fucking yourself on my dick.”

He sounded so sweet praising me like that. I felt stupid for liking it. I felt like Evan didn’t praise me often. In fact, I knew he didn’t. So this was rare. Nice even.

“Thank you,” I panted, moving to go even faster. Maybe if I stopped being difficult, he’d praise me more. And I wouldn’t feel like such a fuckup all the time.

“You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?” Evan kept going, his eyes dilated as he watched me.

I nodded. “Uh huh.”

“You like being a good boy. You want to give me a reason to praise you, don’t you?”

I nodded. If I made Evan happy, he wouldn’t have any reason to beat me like Declan had beaten Jacob. That’s what I told myself at least. But it wasn’t just that. If I was being honest, it was for myself, too. I wanted Evan to be happy with me. I was tired of feeling like a failure.

If Mother was going to hate me, if Serenity wasn’t going to trust me, if Jacob was going to see me as the enemy, then at least let my fucking husband like me.

“Such a good boy,” Evan said, placing my hands on my hips and gripping them until I stopped. I looked at him, confused. “Since you want to be obedient today, go ahead and come on my dick for me.”

I hesitated. “But shouldn’t I focus on you?”

“Yes, and you’re such a good boy for wanting to. You really are learning. But right now, I want to feel you come on my dick. Go ahead now.”

I nodded, moving my hips back and forth. After a few test rolls, I paused again. I looked at Evan, nervous.

“Should I keep the same pace as before, or—”

“Whatever you need to come, _mi sol_. Then you’ll go back to doing it properly.”

Okay. I could do that. I still hesitated before starting. I wrapped my arms around Evan’s neck, settling into the right position and lifting myself off his dick a bit. He was too fucking big. I went back to rolling my hips, setting a slow pace while I got the movement right.

“Ah,” I gasped when I got his dick to press against me just right.

Okay, just like that. I kept moving, half sliding on his dick. I didn’t take him as deeply as before, but he was still big enough to hit me in places the average man would struggle with. I let out moans when the pressure felt nice, and I sped up my pace keep it going.

I was rather proud of the fact that I knew exactly how to make myself come with just a dick inside me. Others would have to jerk themselves off as well. But I just needed to roll my hips just the right way. I could take as long as I wanted, or speed it up so that I was coming in minutes.

With Evan, I did the latter. I didn’t really want to come to begin with, and the sooner I came, the sooner I could focus on getting him off. Then maybe I could get another break before lunch.

So I rocked my hips in Evan’s lap, feeling my orgasm building and building. I moaned every time I hit that sweet spot, trying to keep from getting too loud. Even if Jacob wasn’t in the house, I was sure Serenity and Mike still were. I didn’t want everyone hearing me.

It wasn’t until I was close to hitting the peak that I realized how long it’d been since I last came. I’d gotten used to being left unsatiated after Evan fucked me. I even came to prefer it; if the only alternative was coming on my rapist’s dick, the former was much easier to manage than the latter.

And I was also noticing another effect it had on me: it made it easier to listen to Evan. To submit to him. I was left wet and slightly turned on with no relief. I was in the perfect condition to be a good wife to him. To obey him. And when he’d come to do it again hours later afterwards, I’d still be primed to accept him.

Obedience was easier after being left unfinished.

Still, wanting to come was a hard habit to break. So I lost myself entirely in the process, climbing higher and higher and higher. I had to remind myself a few times that Evan wanted me to come; that I didn’t have to stop myself or ruin my orgasms. And so I hit the peak, rolled my hips just right, and I came.

Because it had been a while, I practically convulsed in Evan’s hips. I clenched down hard, and closed my eyes so hard until I saw white. I buried my head in Evan’s shoulder as I cried out, and I still rocked my hips, desperate for the little aftershocks to make my pussy tremble some more.

“Such a good boy,” Evan praised in my ear. “That felt so nice on my dick.”

“I love how big it is,” I admitted, lost in the afterglow of my orgasm.

Evan laughed, rubbing my back.

“You’re not done, _mi sol_ ,” he said, patting my ass. “Now it’s my turn.”

I nodded, ready to do just that. I went back to my previous position, trying to brace myself. I fucked myself once, pausing as my pussy spasmed. I took a calming breath. I was still too sensative. That was fine. I just needed to focus on Evan, though. I tried again, stopping when it happened again.

I looked up at Evan, who was watching me patiently. I needed to satisfy him. I needed to make him come. He’d been nice enough to let me have an orgasm in my favorite position. I needed to make sure he knew how grateful I was. I tried again, setting the previous fast pace. But I couldn’t have gone ten or fifteen seconds before I needed to stop. I whimpered, feeling so upset I wanted to cry.

“What’s wrong, Andres?” Evan asked, his voice sounding so gentle and nice.

I couldn’t look at him when I answered. I shook my head.

“I’m trying,” I told him. “I’m trying, I really am. But my legs feel really weak and I’m just too sensitive. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t like that word. Can’t.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry! Please, Evan, I really want to—”

“Do you need my help?”

I hesitated. “I like this position,” I said instead. “I really am trying, but I—”

“Andres,” Evan interrupted, putting a finger over my lips. “Calm down. I’m not punishing you. You’ve been very obedient. I saw that you tried. All I asked was if you needed my help.”

I took a few sobering breaths before nodding.

“Yes, please.” Then, for good measure, I added, “Please fuck me?”

Evan smiled at that, kissing me deeply. When we broke, his grip was rough as he pulled me off him and laid me with my chest on some pillows. I turned my head to face the door, which I just realized was open. I thought about saying something, but decided that if Evan was concerned about it, he would have shut it a while ago.

Evan put a hand on the back of my neck to hold me in place before easily sliding his dick back inside. I let out a sigh while Evan also let out a satisfied moan. I closed my eyes, enjoying it. I was still sensitive, but now I could do nothing bit lay there while Evan fucked my brains out.

And he proceeded to do just that. He set a relentless, powerful pace that drew moans and gasps from me every second. I felt so helpless underneath him. Powerless. Evan was everywhere: towering over me and filling me inside. His hips slapped against my ass, taking what was rightfully his.

It was hard to question any of this in moments like these. As fleeting as they were, all I wanted to do was submit to this all the time. I was weak. I was vulnerable. I was so small. Why did I think it made sense to fight any of this? Why didn’t I just give in? Accept it?

Something in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t, but everything in me, in this moment, just wanted to do it. Give everything to Evan. He was happy. He was satisfied with me. He was enjoying me. He was being nice to me.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

Evan picked up speed, pounding me so hard I gasped. Fuck. _Fuck_. This felt so fucking good. A slamming sound made me jump, and I opened my eyes to see that Evan had used magic to slam the door shut.

Before I could wonder why, he gripped my hips, pressing against me and stilling as he came. I focused on that; on knowing he was claiming what was rightfully his. Painting me with himself. Taking me as his.

“Such a good boy,” Evan moaned in my ear. “Does that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” I gasped, smiling. I felt like I was in heaven. “Thank you.”

“For what, _mi sol_?”

I wasn’t sure what, honestly. It had just felt like the right thing to say at the moment. But when I thought about it, there was really a lot to thank him for.

“For letting me come,” I started. “For spending the day with me. For fucking my brains out all morning.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” Evan said, patting my ass. “I have every intention of going after lunch, and well after dinner.”

 _Jesus_.

“For fucking my brains out all day?” I corrected.

“We do need to talk,” Evan said, finally pulling out. His dick was soft now, and that actually made me sad. “About what happened with Jacob.”

Evan moved us until he was sitting with his back against the headboard, and me in his lap.

“Is that why you took off work today?” I asked. “To teach me some lesson about how I belong to you?”

“It was more so to work out any tension,” he said. “This part, at least. But Jacob needs help. Yesterday made that obvious.”

I was confused. “Me? He won’t listen to me. Serenity said yesterday that he hates me.”

“I think after what happened yesterday, he might be open to new ideas. Jacob doesn’t know this, but he is on very thin ice with the council. The two boys he ran with both said that was all Jacob’s idea. And he didn’t challenge it when questioned himself. If he’s a difficult bride, his husband can handle it, but if he’s sowing seeds of malcontent, he will need to be dealt with.”

I swallowed. “He won’t listen to me,” I repeated. Only more defeated. I wanted to help Jacob; I really did. But I wasn’t sure what to do. How could I help him if he hated me and wanted nothing to do with me?

“Convince him to listen. Do you know why I shut the door?”

I straightened, looking up at him. “No. Why? Did someone walk by?”

“Jacob was coming up the stairs,” Evan said, nodding. “And he stopped to watch us. I let him for a bit. He wasn’t so much watching _us_ as he was watching _you_.”

I thought about that, not quite sure I knew what do with that information. Why would Jacob be watching me? I felt my face get hot, wondering how I must have looked. Wet and flushed, my eyes closed as I moaned while Evan pounded into me.

I must have looked so wanton.

“I think Jacob is considering different options,” Evan continued. “I think now’s a good time to try to see if you can convince him to behave.”

“Does it have to be me?” I mumbled. I really didn’t want to do this. “Do _I_ have to do it?”

“Do you know what my mother’s biggest role on the compound is?” Evan asked.

I just shrugged. Talking about his mother was a even bigger mood killer than the previous conversation.

“Her biggest role is to ensure all wives are behaving as wives. That’s why she runs the intake for rescues. She’s not just a role model: it’s her job to help those who are struggling. Especially if they’re too proud to ask for help.”

I nodded, remembering what Mrs. Ruthanne said to me a while ago. But more importantly, I understood the implication.

“And since I’ll be replacing Mother one day,” I said, frowning, “I have to learn how to do the same.”

“Exactly.”

I sighed. “I’ll try. I just don’t know if I’ll get anywhere with him.”

“It’s fine. If he still fights you, you can just tell me. And the council will decide how to proceed.”

I nodded, considering that. It was obvious that things would get ugly for Jacob if the council had to decide. Meaning I needed to find a way to get through to him: for his own good.

Evan moved me suddenly, laying me on my back against the pillows. He settled between my legs, which I spread dutifully. His dick was already hardening again. Amazing; Evan’s stamina was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. I was exhausted trying to keep up, and yet I was happy to struggle to do so.

“Now,” Evan said, smiling down at me. “Let’s get my dick back inside you where it belongs. I think I got one more in me before lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter I hate and I'm just getting out here lol. 
> 
> Maybe I should stop trying to do sex scenes. I hate reading them back. When I write them, I think "okay, this is cool," but reading them back? Ugh. I hate em. 
> 
> This chapter was more about setting up the conversation. Which is def coming lol. Oh, and really so I could upload Hell. This chapter had to go up before I could do that. I think you all will enjoy that one. I'll likely upload that this week, as well as the next chapter. The next chapter is REALLY short, so I'd hate to have you guys waiting too long for that. 
> 
> I really like not keeping to a strict upload schedule. For now, hilariously enough, I'm uploading more frequently than before. I think just because I'm in such a good mood. 
> 
> I have to go back to work tomorrow, and surprisingly, I'm not dreading it. Really goes to show how much I needed that week off. Lol. The fact that I don't feel that Sunday night dread really says something. I can't remember the last time I was so chill with having to go back to work. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a bit tense, just as a warning! 
> 
> Oh, but back to this chapter, I will admit that the weirdest part of reading this back is how pliant Andres is. It's very disturbing. I think the reason I feel weird about sex scenes is the nature of them. It's not really romantic or sweet scenes; there's always a layer of danger or "oh fuck" to them. 
> 
> This one felt like an attempt to romanticize a not okay situation? Maybe that's just me? Idk. I could be thinking too hard about it. Just a reminder that despite how he feels, Andres cannot consent to any of this. I feel like that needs to be said. 
> 
> Okay. Idk when I'll post this week, but I'll see you all then! Please leave me comments! I need them for sustenance!


	36. Chapter 36

“Two weeks, though?” Reggie frowned, eyeing an intern, Cindy, as she typed up the results of a recent experiment. “Just to move?”

“Into a _house_ ,” I reminded him for eightieth time. “And then a proper week’s vacation before graduation since our time renews over the summer.”

Reggie shook his head, pretending he was considering it. Reggie was the supervisor, and technically my boss at the lab. The school’s faculty referred to him as the “Short King” simply because he was closer to my height despite not being intersex, and was really into that Africana aesthetic despite being white as fuck. He had long hair he never combed and wanted people to believe were dreadlocks, and he had a Black fiancée whose picture he used as his work laptop’s screensaver. He even wore a gold ankh necklace at all times just so everyone would know how down he was.

If he weren’t a genuinely nice guy, all of that would be enough for me to hate him.

But he _was_ a nice guy, which was why he was going to accept my vacation request the two weeks before graduation so I could move and spend time with Lyle the week after. The last month had been a flurry of going back and forth with the bank, house inspections, electrical issues needing to be resolved, then furniture shopping, and other house-related chaos. I hadn’t even put in any overtime at the lab simply because every moment I wasn’t working needed to be planning for my move.

I still saw my therapist, and put in a few hours a week at the IRRC just for a break from it all. But it meant I was constantly running around. So much so that I finally broke a bought a car so I didn’t have to rely on the shitty public transport system, or rideshares.

Or Kelvin, who was not really taking too well to the news that we couldn’t fuck anymore.

Despite how stressful a lot of it had been, keeping busy had been a nice way to distract from, what I heard at least, was the chaos at court. Now that arbitration had begun, there were constant meetings, constant hearings, all of which I hadn’t had to show up to. Jenn had been handling it swimmingly.

Still, she did warn that it was likely I was going to have to show up next Friday for some questioning. I allowed house planning to take over my entire world just so I didn’t have to stress about that. And now that my closing date was around the corner and my family knew what day I was moving, I needed off so I could get my house in order. And Reggie was not going to stand in my way.

Not to mention we both knew that if he said no, I’d just go over his head to Dr. Moore. And her crazy ass wouldn’t even think before approving it.

“Fine,” Reggie said with a sigh, approving my request on his computer. “Kadijah had to take a week off to get the house together when we moved, so I guess it could take a while to get set up. Especially since you’re all by your lonesome.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” I lied.

“No problem. You know, if you’re looking for someone to purify the house before you move in, you know, clean out all the negative energies, Kadijah knows a great obeah wi—”

“Oh, my god, Reggie,” I snapped, walking back to my workstation. “Shut the fuck up.”

Cindy started giggling like a maniac while Reggie looked confused.

“What? I was just trying to help!”

“My family practices Santeria, and this is Faust City. I could go down the street and find someone to do that if I cared.”

“I can do it for free,” another intern, Jamal, said from the printer. “Trying to get my practice on.”

“Or Jamal will do it for me for free,” I finished to Reggie. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I mean,” Reggie said, looking guilty as he shrugged, “it’s really Kadijah’s little sister, and she’s been hitting us up for money a lot recently, so—”

 _SMASH_!

We all jumped as a brick went flying through the glass windows at the front of the lab. It landed about a foot next to where I was sitting. We all looked, the glassbreak detector setting the alarm off, and watched as a group of four boys in all black spray painted over the glass. The one who threw the brick met my eyes, bright blue and glaring at me with hatred.

“The Lord’s vengeance is mighty and quick!” he yelled through the window. “Repent now and return to His ways before it’s too late!”

The other boys finished what they were doing then, and they all ran off down the hall. Jamal ran to the door, opening it and watching them. Cindy yelled at him not to follow, and Jamal seriously considered it before sighing and walking back inside. Reggie got a call from the alarm company, and he asked them to send the cops right away.

My heart was racing, the boy’s words echoing in my mind. He had looked right at me when he said it. Repent now? Return to God’s ways? That could only mean one thing. I glanced at the brick, seeing a white piece of paper tied to it. God, they would have had to have planned this.

“Cindy, can you turn the alarm off?” Reggie said, walking outside to look at the damage. “The code is 8-6-9-9 then pound. Fuck.”

I walked over to the brick, sliding the paper off of it. It was folded, but on top it read: _The fruit of knowledge is what casted Adam and Eve out from Eden. Secure your place, Andres. Reject knowledge._

My breath stopped, everything fading away. It wasn’t even subtle; it _was_ meant for me. It had my name and everything! And if I had any doubt, when I opened the paper, a card for the Faust City’s branch of the Church of Eden’s Willows fell out. I watched it fall to the ground.

I wasn’t sure what I felt. Shocked? Scared? Angry? Confused. Did Evan know about this, or did those kids plan it themselves? No. The Willows’ children were always obedient. There was no way they’d do something like this unless someone set them up to it.

_Reach out to me when you’re ready. Before this turns ugly._

Was this the ugly Evan had warned me about? Did the Willows intend to do stuff like this? Harass me wherever I went? Make it so I couldn’t hold down a job? How far would they take it? Would they harassment my parents at their workplace too? Would they hurt them?

I heard a gasp and looked up. Cindy, Jamal, and Reggie were all outside now, looking at what the kids had spray painted. I felt numb as I stood up, moving to join them. Reggie caught me at the door.

“No, Andres,” he said, trying to push me back inside. “C’mon; just stay inside. If they come back—”

“Move, Reggie,” I said, my voice surprisingly strong. “I want to see it.”

Reggie frowned, but did as I said. All over the long, window were the harsh words in black:

 _Whores will burn. Repent_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another surprise chapter! Lol. 
> 
> I really didn't mean to upload this, but I was editing the chapter for Hell is Just a Matter of Perspective, and then realized that the NEXT chapter actually has to be posted first before that one goes up. And I really want to update that chapter! ;A; Sooooo, I'm doing this chapter, and the next one this week, and by Friday, I want to update Hell. Idk when I'll post, but it will be happening this week. After next chapter, no promises until September 1st lol. 
> 
> So that was stressful, huh! I said it was a short chapter, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be tense! Very brazen for the Willows to do. They'll likely say it was mild vandalism by some kids, and that they'll be reprimanded by the church. The cops likely won't be able to do much. Especially since it's not established as a pattern. 
> 
> Yet. 
> 
> Poor Andres. He doesn't deserve all this stress I'm giving him. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys liked this! Leave comments as always. Please don't make me beg for them cuz I will! Night!


	37. Chapter 37

I hadn’t seen Jacob in a week. I knew he wasn’t working in the kitchen, and Declan was still showing up to his work projects every day. That meant that Jacob was hiding out in their room, which worried me. When I said something Evan about it, however, he had told me to stay out of it. That if isolation was part of Jacob’s punishment, he needed to go through it alone. That maybe Jacob would appreciate the congregation when he no longer has access to it.

It disgusted me, but there was nothing I could do. So life continued on like normal. No one mentioned the escape. One of the boys who ran with Jacob was whipped at dinner over the weekend. On the stage. In front of everyone. The other one, Zeke found out, was now engaged to one of the Willows’ college students, and would be married at next month’s wedding ceremony.

He was sixteen.

Aside from that, however, everyone went about their days as if nothing had happened. And so I found myself every day at the birthing center, learning under Lex and Dreama about what to expect when expecting. I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should, but they took pity on me considering I lived with Jacob.

Mrs. Nydia, however, gave me no such luxury. When I was caught slacking, she was quick to chastise me in front of everyone who was around. She would sometimes wonder aloud if I would be better off being a secretary since I apparently couldn’t handle the midwife training. And because she was insulting my intelligence, I, of course, had to prove her wrong.

It was a sunny Thursday, while I was reviewing the complications that gestational diabetes could cause, when Shiloh walked inside the center. He looked around, as if lost, glancing at Mrs. Nydia at her computer. He was taking small steps and looked rather shy. Demure. That wasn’t how Shiloh normally behaved, so I got up from my seat behind Mrs. Nydia and walked over to him.

“What’s wrong, Shiloh?” I asked him as I approached.

He gave me a small smile, glancing at Mrs. Nydia, who had looked up at him.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging. Then he glanced at everyone else—it was just Jackie, Zeke, and Lex there with us. And they were busy prepping for Tanya’s checkup. “I just, um, I need napkins.”

I was confused by what he meant, but Mrs. Nydia seemed to understand. She turned to the others in the back.

“Lex. Jackie. Show Andres how to hand out the pads.”

Lex nodded, gesturing for me and Shiloh to follow her. Jackie looked ready to punch someone, but she trailed behind us. Lex took us to a long table with a cabinet underneath it. It had a curtain divider around it, which she pulled until we were all completely covered. Shiloh fidgeted nervously while Lex pulled out a tablet.

“Alright,” she said, in teacher mode. “Now, Andres, every woman and surrogate is only allowed to be in possession of one pad at a time when they’re not menstruating.”

Oh! Shiloh was on his period. I nodded, finally understanding.

Wait.

Shiloh was on his _period_?

Before I could think too much on it, however, Lex was showing me where to sign in. She put in her credentials and hit a few buttons, pulling up a list of names.

“Alright,” she said, typing in Shiloh’s name. “Now, every time a woman or surrogate gets pads, we have to document it. We typically hand out fifteen to start. If they need more, they can always come back in and get more. Then we give them out in amounts of five. Every single time they need them, you must sign them out. Now, we keep the original packs in here, and in those drawers against the walls. The double drawers are where we keep the packs of five.”

“Are these reusable ones?” I asked as she pulled out a pack of the fifteen. They were in a small, linen bag.

Lex nodded. “Yes. We use cotton for obvious reasons. So, at the end of their cycle, every woman or surrogate has to return them here in this bag. And yes, we do count them. All fifteen must be returned at the end of the month. If not, then their home and everywhere they frequent has to be searched. It’s a whole thing.”

“Why?” I asked. It seemed like a lot of work for pads.

“We track everyone’s cycles and fertilities. So look here. Shiloh doesn’t have a history with us because this is his first proper period since he’s been here. So we hit this here to check off that his period started today. Oh, Shiloh, honey, it did start today, right?”

Shiloh nodded. “This morning.”

Lex noted that. “Now, at the end of their cycles, when they return the pads, we give them one clean pad they can keep at home. That way, they have one when their period starts. This just made more sense for people who get their periods in the middle of the night or something. So they can last until the morning when someone’s here.”

I nodded. Still seemed like a lot of work. Lex looked at something on Shiloh’s screen, and she tilted her head.

“Are you wearing someone’s extra pad now, Shiloh, honey?” Lex pointed to a place on the screen where there was a zero. “See? He doesn’t have a backup.”

“I borrowed it from Aaron,” Shiloh mumbled.

Lex nodded, showing me how to switch to another profile. This time, a picture of young boy with shaggy, black hair and a mole under his left eye popped up. Lex hit the number and an option to transfer popped up. She transferred it to Shiloh, and his profile popped up again.

“You rarely have to do this, and that gets flagged if you ever do it. But considering Shiloh’s situation, Nydia will understand what happened. She reviews these every day and will grill the hell out of you if something doesn’t add up.

“So, in order to get his fifteen, Shiloh needs to hand over the one he’s wearing. Which works out for us to do the test anyway.”

“Test?” my head was spinning. There were so many rules just to get pads?

“Yes,” Lex nodded at Jackie, who was all frowned up. “Any time you give out pads, a midwife has to be here with a doula. A minimum of two people have to witness the test to verify that the woman or surrogate is in fact on their period.”

Lex opened another drawer were there were stacks of small, square, cotton cloths. She took two out, and held up one for me.

“Also reusable,” she said. “Every day, we collect all the pads, and these, returned to us and send it to the laundry where they are cleaned and sterilized before coming back here. Only midwives are allowed to drop these off, or receive them from the laundry building.”

“So what is the test?” I asked.

“Shiloh has to first wipe himself clean with one of these,” she said, placing one cloth on top of the table. “Then he has to use the second, wrap it around a finger, insert it inside himself, and then pull it out to verify that he is in fact on his period.”

I went still. That was mortifying. And disgusting. Everyone had to do that? Had Serenity done that? I hadn’t gotten my period, and I was sure Jacob hadn’t either. So I had no idea this was a thing. How invasive!

“Can’t he do the test somewhere else and come back with the cloths?” I asked. “Do we have to stand here and watch him?”

“Yes,” Lex said seriously. “Someone _has_ to witness it. And we bring in two so there’s no conspiring.”

“Conspiring?” I all but snapped. “What conspiring could be had with getting pads?”

“Lord in Heaven,” Jackie said, finally speaking and rolling her eyes. “Do you not think past your nose? You can’t imagine why a surrogate or woman might lie about being on their period in order to pretend they’re not pregnant? Or to try to get out of sex with their husband? Duh.”

I glared at her. I was so sick of Jackie’s digs. Where the fuck did she get off? Why would I consider that? Where I came from, people didn’t have to jump through hoops to get pads or tampons. They just bought them, or picked them up at shelters. And there were no crazy tests at shelters for someone to prove they’re on their period. Who thought of this sort of shit?

“And given Shiloh’s _control_ issues,” Jackie continued, looking Shiloh up and down, “he’s a good example of the exact sort of person why these rules are in place.”

Shiloh looked down at the floor, not denying it. Which I didn’t understand. Shiloh knew he was on thin ice: he _needed_ to get pregnant. And he liked having sex with Josh. He had nothing to gain from pretending he was on his period.

Not to mention he’d been at the Willows for four years. Why would he suddenly show up asking for pads if he wasn’t on his period? It wasn’t smart: if everyone thought he was getting his period when he wasn’t, that meant he had less of an excuse to not be pregnant. If he were lying, all he’d be doing is upping the pressure to be pregnant. And as time went on and he wasn’t, the council would get involved. It made no sense for Shiloh specially to lie.

So I turned on Jackie, ready to tell her all of this when something else hit my mind. What Nydia had told me my first day. When she told me that I was destined to be Mother one day. Jackie stared at the wives all the time, obviously wishing she were among them. Jackie wished she had the power I would have one day.

That was why she glared at me. That’s why she shit-talked me whenever she could. She was fucking jealous. If there was one thing I knew, it was that all the wives bowed to Mother. I wasn’t in her position yet, but if Evan got respect as the future Father, why shouldn’t I get that same respect?

Maybe it was time to pull rank.

“That was very rude,” I said calmly, remembering how poised Mother had been when I first met her. “Are you implying that Shiloh would have reason to lie about being on his period? After all these years?”

Jackie frowned at me, while Lex just lifted an eyebrow and watched.

“I mean,” she glanced at Shiloh again, who was just watching with his big, wide eyes. “I mean, he’s been _difficult_. It’s the difficult ones who are the reason we have rules like this.”

“But has Shiloh himself ever lied about his period? I haven’t been here long, so let me know if something happened previously that you’re referencing.”

Jackie was silent. Exactly.

“So you just wanted to take a dig at Shiloh? Why? Did it make you feel better about your own fertility issues?”

Shiloh gasped at that, and Lex’s eyes went _wide_. Jackie, however, squirmed.

“At least I’m not causing my own issues,” she muttered, glancing at Shiloh.

“Oh, come off it,” I snapped. “ _You_ should be sympathetic to anyone struggling, no matter the reason. Especially if you don’t want people looking down on you; you and Shiloh are the same age, and _you_ don’t have any children either.”

“Ho-ly crap,” Lex muttered under her breath.

I ignored her. “You need to apologize.” 

Jackie’s head snapped up at that. She glared at me. “I’m sorry?”

“Not to me. To Shiloh.”

“Okay, I meant, _excuse me_?”

“No,” I said, gesturing to Shiloh. “An apology. To Shiloh. Now.”

Jackie’s face went red. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet in the ground already. But I had the moral high ground. And the higher rank. Both as a midwife, and as Evan’s wife. And I could see Jackie realizing that. And what was probably pissing her off the most was the fact that _I_ now knew that.

She turned to Shiloh, her face barely masking her anger.

“I’m sorry for calling you difficult,” she said.

Shiloh nodded at her, obviously too shocked to say anything else. I turned to Lex.

“Can we just get this over with?”

Lex nodded, walking Shiloh through it. She explained that they don’t trust the pads the woman or surrogate comes in with because there were times where someone put red dye or something on it as proof. And if whatever it is sticks to their crotch, the first wipe is to clean that out.

Shiloh did his best going through it; he obviously wasn’t used to it. Still, the second cloth also came out bright red. He laid the cloths and old pad on the table, which Jackie put gloves on and disposed of them in another linen bag. Lex pointed out where Jackie was going to put them—in a large cotton bag in the side closet, which Jackie had to do under a midwife’s eye—and Shiloh was free to claim his pads, and replace the old one.

“Good job, Shiloh,” Lex praised as she showed me how to document everything before exiting out of Shiloh’s profile. “I’m sure Josh will have you at the doctor’s soon.”

Shiloh shrugged as he fiddled with his bag. “Next month. He wants to make sure it’s really back and not just some sporadic bleeding.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Lex said, smiling at him as she pulled the curtains back. “It’s obviously working.”

Shiloh smiled at her as Jackie stormed out of the entire building. Everyone—except Mrs. Nydia—watched her leave. Zeke looked over at me, confused. I mouthed that I’d tell him later, assuming Zeke didn’t get the full story somehow before I got a chance to talk to him.

“You too,” Lex said, winking at me. “Good job.”

I smiled at her as she walked over to Mrs. Nydia.

“Thank you,” Shiloh said, his voice quiet. He was still looking at the ground. “I don’t have the right to get defensive. So, thank you.”

I nodded. “Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't the chapter I kept referencing, but I DO have a companion piece to this one that I can post in Hell! So yay! I can update that one too! Lol. 
> 
> Andres and Jackie are REALLY going to start clashing. It's fine; she deserves it, right? We'll find out in a few chapters just what her deal is. I think you guys will like it. :3 But in the meantime, I'm so happy Shiloh has a friend who is willing to defend him! He deserves it! 
> 
> What do you guys think of Shiloh getting his period? It's one of those things where I'm like "yay!" for him. Because he needs this. But we all know what it means. Ahhh. Oh well. 
> 
> Now that I'm back to work, I haven't been sleeping. I normally take showers at night, but recently, I've been forgoing them and showering in the morning instead. I have enough time in the mornings for it, so it's nbd. But I've showered at night since I was a child. Bath time was always a night thing. It's weird, but the biggest issue is just that by the time I need to shower at night, I'm soooo tired. The thought of standing sounds miserable. So I put it off until it's like thirty minutes to when I need to go to bed. And when you shower, it wakes you up a bit. Not overly, but enough that I really need, like, two hours afterwards to chill out enough to come down. 
> 
> But, I was thinking, "what if I took the pressure of my nights to shower, and just washed my face, brush my teeth, and then go to sleep?" And it was less to do at night. And doing so would make it easier to be in bed, ready to go to sleep at my desired time. 
> 
> Last night still had me going to sleep about an hour later than I wanted to, BUT, I was still in bed with the lights off trying to go to sleep at my unofficial "bedtime." I could make it a habit.
> 
> Showering in the morning on weekdays is fine, honestly. It's just on the weekends/days off, it's easier to shower at night than in the day. But there's nothing wrong with showering in the morning instead. A lot of people do it lol. There might be some merit to it. In that case, I can work on actually GOING to sleep when I should, and then I can work on building a night routine after. Instead of the other way around. 
> 
> Which never works. 
> 
> Not sure why I felt the need to share that with y'all lol. Guess that was just my way of saying I'm tired as fuck and ready for bed, so I'm just going to go to bed. I'll update Hell is Just a Matter of Perspective tomorrow instead. 
> 
> Night! Leave comments! Please!


	38. Chapter 38

“What are you doing?”

Jacob jumped, turning around from the mess he’d made in the kitchen. He looked around shyly, obviously not expecting to see me. He shrugged, moving to preheat the oven.

“I, uh…” he started, frowning as he did that and looking around. “Declan said I should do something to say sorry. So, I’m making dinner.”

Oh. That explained why Evan had told me after lunch to go back to the house during the dinner hour. I was, admittedly, earlier than I needed to be. I’d helped Dreama look at a young surrogate, Dustin, who technically wasn’t pregnant since he wasn’t getting married until next month. He was in the beginning of his first trimester, and was having a rough time of it. He puked three times while there.

After lunch, and having to deal with Jackie’s glares and snappy remarks, I was over with the day. So I told Mrs. Nydia I would do some reading at home, and she warned me that she’d quiz me in the morning to make sure I did.

What I didn’t expect was to come home and see Jacob in the kitchen, mixing bowls everywhere and half filled. Nor to see the island covered almost entirely in flour as Jacob rolled out what looked like biscuits. Nor to see a crockpot, that I didn’t even know we had, plugged in and forgotten in one corner.

“Do you even know how to cook?” I asked him.

It was a serious question.

Jacob frowned at me before turning back to using a round cutter to create little round biscuits.

“I cooked all the time back home,” Jacob admitted. “My mother was always too busy to. And it was the only hobby that made sense to have since we had to eat anyway.”

That surprised me. Jacob hadn’t struck me as someone who liked spending time in the kitchen. Granted, the way he just described his cooking hobby didn’t sound much like a hobby at all.

“Do you like cooking?” I asked instead, now curious. I leaned against the island, tossing my textbook on one of the barstools so I could watch.

Jacob shrugged. “It’s relaxing, I guess. When I can cook like this. Mrs. Lynn doesn’t really let anyone do this sort of stuff. You have to work your way up, I guess.” Jacob hesitated as he lined the biscuits on a nonstick cookie sheet. “She’s really nice. She let me borrow everything I’d need to make this.”

That surprised me. Though my interaction with Mrs. Lynn was limited, “nice” was not at all how I would describe her. She had thought me useless and wanted me nowhere near her kitchen. Jacob must have been doing pretty well for her to be _nice_ to him.

I watched Jacob put the biscuits in the oven, noticing another sheet filled with veggies roasting in it. On top of the stove was a brown gravy thickening, and I could smell the beef from the crockpot. Jacob straightened up the island, bringing over the mixing bowls. I realized he was making a cheesecake.

“Wow,” I said. “I mean, I always thought you were amazing Jacob, but this is next level!”

Jacob looked at me like I said something crazy. Then he turned away, going back to what he was doing.

“What about me would make you think I was amazing?” he asked, his cheeks deepening in color.

I smiled. “I mean, you _are_ a genius, Jacob.”

“You skipped grades too.”

“I’m advanced. You’re a literal, like, once in a generation _genius_.”

Jacob shrugged again. “A lot of good that’s doing me here.”

“Yeah,” I said, frowning. “I’m sorry. I wish I could change it, Jacob. I really do. At least for you.”

Jacob dumped the cheesecake in a pan with a crumb bottom; it looked like a strawberry cheesecake. He smoothed it out before moving to put in the fridge. Ahh. A no-bake cheesecake. Interesting. When Jacob returned, he started cleaning up. Feeling bad, I started helping.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said when he noticed what I was doing. “I think Declan wants me doing everything anyway.”

“He can’t get mad at me helping you clean up,” I said, wetting a rag to wipe down the island. “Besides, I actually kinda want to talk. Since it’s just us here for once.”

Jacob moved to load up the dishwasher. His back was tense, but he didn’t say no. I took a deep breath in and out.

“I know I’m not your favorite person,” I said, shrugging. “And I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear lecture you. And I don’t want to do that, Jacob. I really don’t. I just—I mean, I was really scared when you ran. And I had no idea you were even thinking of doing that.”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Jacob said, his voice tense.

“I know,” I said, wiping the island down twice. “When the deacons were asking about you, it was weird because Serenity had all this information she could provide, but I had nothing. And because you’re so smart, I sometimes forget that you _are_ just a kid. And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear that; you’re a kid. I got, what? Almost eight years on you? That’s almost a decade. I forget how big a gap that is. Especially right now for you.

“So after I got done being mad, I remembered that I’m just another adult to you. It’s no wonder you didn’t tell me anything. Sometimes I think I’m talking to you as an equal, but I guess from your perspective, I’m trying to order you around.”

Jacob stood up from loading the dishwasher and turned to face me. I added more soap to the rag I was using and started wiping down the counters.

“I’ve been mad at you this entire time,” Jacob admitted. He looked over at the crockpot, as if expecting it to explode. He turned the heat down. “Not really for that, but the same reason I stopped talking to Serenity too. You two just are different from me.”

I frowned. “Different how?”

Jacob shrugged, then shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re older and more _experienced_. You both were really calm when they took us, and I thought you both were crazy. And even Declan too. He’s so mean.” Jacob paused, as if considering something. Whatever it was, he didn’t say it.

“Do you know why the council allowed Declan to claim you?” I asked him. He needed to hear this: Jacob might be a kid, but he wasn’t a _child_. “It’s because you fought so hard in the beginning. They knew you’d be difficult. That’s why this sort of stuff just frustrates me, Jacob. You’re proving them right.”

“So it’s my fault Declan raped me?” Jacob asked, his voice dead.

“No, Jacob. Of course not. I’m just saying Declan looks for a reason. And he’ll always have one: you don’t have to hand deliver it to him. If you had bored him, he wouldn’t have zeroed in on you. The other men wouldn’t have stood there and let him hurt you. The council sure as hell wouldn’t have let him claim you.”

Jacob nodded, and I was surprised he wasn’t fighting me on that. I felt horrible, blaming Jacob for Declan’s actions. It was wrong. Jacob wasn’t to blame for that. But he really wasn’t making things easier for himself. That was my point. Of course, you know a bear might attack you, so why walk up to one and poke it?

I looked around the kitchen, now clean save for the little bit of utensils that Jacob was still using. I could leave it at that. Jacob seemed to understand what I was saying. I could walk away and tell Evan I had talked to him.

But I was curious about something.

“Hey,” I said, walking over to where Jacob was washing a few things in the sink. The stuff too big to go in the dishwasher. I lowered my voice, just in case someone else walked in. “Evan told me you saw us the other day.”

Jacob’s cheeks really turned a deeper color then. He went out of his way to not look at me. I leaned against the dishwasher, keeping my eye on the door.

“The way he described it,” I continued, “it wasn’t an accidental thing and then you walked away. He said you were _watching_.”

“Keep the door closed if you don’t want people seeing,” Jacob snapped, though his voice was too low to have any real bite.

It was cute, really. I smiled.

“I’m not mad,” I told him. “I was just curious what about it made you stop.”

Jacob shrugged. He really didn’t want to talk about it. He was washing a knife over and over under the hot water.

“I don’t think it was a matter of you getting turned on, Jacob,” I kept going. He really started squirming then. “But something made you want to watch. Was it Evan? Did you like watching him—”

“It was you,” Jacob mumbled, obviously sick of listening to me. He dropped the knife in the sink, turning the water off. “I was watching _you_.”

Evan was right.

“Why? Did I look good?”

Jacob just shrugged.

“I won’t go away unless you tell me why,” I said. Now I was even more curious. “I’ll ask you every day, no matter where we are until you—”

“I don’t know!” Jacob snapped, turning on me. He then realized he was looking at me, and he blushed as he turned back to the sink. “I just, I don’t know, I was wondering if I could do that.”

“The position?” I asked, trying to remember how Evan had me when the door slammed shut.

“No, just…” Jacob struggled to find the words. He shrugged. “I guess, submitting. When I saw you, you had your eyes closed and you were just…”

“Taking it,” I finished. Because I was. Just accepting whatever Evan wanted to give me. “That’s what submission is, Jacob. It’s just taking what they dish out without all the fighting and arguing. We have to take it either way. This way is just easier.”

Jacob nodded. Interesting. So he learned his lesson? He understood now?

“I got mad afterwards,” Jacob admitted, his voice low. “I kept thinking how of course it was easier for you with Evan. For Serenity with Mike. But I have _Declan_. So I can’t submit. But after all this, I guess I realized that I’m not getting anything out of fighting him. But it just feels weird to stop. Like he won.”

“He was always going to win,” I told Jacob. “It was just a matter of how long it would take for you to see that.”

Jacob nodded again. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I do too.”

And I did. I hated that Jacob had to learn like this. I hated that he had to be beaten and broken every day. I hated that Declan was always going to be the victor. I hated that all of this was happening to Jacob. And I hated that I was powerless to stop him.

“Jacob,” I started, pausing. This was a question I wasn’t sure I should ask.

“Hmm?”

I took a deep breath in. Might as well.

“Are you pregnant?”

Jacob’s hand immediately lifted to his stomach. In that way I knew people did when they were pregnant. And thinking of the baby. In the way I remember seeing my cousin do weeks before she told anyone. In the way Blue did when she got pregnant last year, and was unsure if she should get an abortion.

I knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

“Yes.”

Jacob’s voice cracked, and he sniffed to hold back the tears.

“Does Declan know?”

“Yes.”

I pulled Jacob into a hug, and he went into my arms easily. I held him tight, feeling the way his body relaxed in my hold. A fleeting reprieve: momentary safeness. This was all I could give Jacob. I was so useless, but I could do this at least.

“I’m sorry, Jacob. I really am so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really am happy this convo is finally out there. This is it for the sorta-bomb. No more new chapters until the 1st lol. I need to slow down with the uploads, or else my previous break would be meaningless. 
> 
> I'll talk about it a bit, but Jacob and his mother are very close. It's pretty much (just about) been the two of them his whole life. His mother had to work a lot, and so Jacob prided himself on being "independent," and well behaved. Part of why he's so advanced is because he puts work into trying to excel so his mother doesn't have to worry about him. He wants a career ASAP so his mother doesn't have to support him. 
> 
> But it probably helps that he IS a literal genius. 
> 
> Either way, he does enjoy cooking more than he said. He just feels like it's "lame" to get excited about things, so he tries to downplay it. But he loves being in the kitchen. He's also a very inept baker. He's not the best at decorating, but getting things perfect so that it taste like heaven is his specialty. He can make a black forest cake look and taste perfect, but if you want him to make a cake that looks like ramen or some creative shit like that, he'll probably bake a pie just to smash your face in it. Lol. 
> 
> I also want to make sure no one takes from this that Jacob is WRONG in how he feels. Obviously, abusive people are just abusive. Period. 
> 
> I'm glad Andres and Jacob were able to talk. I think it gave Jacob a new perspective. I think Andres will feel better too now that the air is cleared. 
> 
> Oh, and the reveal! Did you guys assume? Yes, Jacob IS pregnant. Granted, I think we all know how it'll end...
> 
> Still, this is a terrifying time for him! Poor baby. :( I'm so mean doing this to him. 
> 
> Thoughts? Let me know! See you guys on September 1st!


	39. Chapter 39

“God, this is boring.”

I didn’t disagree. Tish gave me a sympathetic smile while Camilla stared at the computer in front of her unblinking. After the week I had, I was happy for the mindless work. There was a job fair at the IRRC coming up in the next couple of weeks, and Tish was tasked with sorting through the employers to see which ones they would allow to set up a booth. Apparently, it was to weed out any potential shady businesses that were moonlighting as something dangerous.

Tish’s friend, Camilla, needed to kill time, and offered to help. And since there was still no general organization of job duties at the IRRC, I had been recruited as well. It was Camilla’s idea to commandeer Alexei’s office; her and Tish both claimed he was rarely around to use it anyway. So while Camilla used his desktop computer to go down the list, Tish and I lounged on the nice, leather couches with our tablets, making good use of the coffee machine on the table between us.

It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

“Buxom put in a request,” Camilla said after we ignored her complaint about being bored again. “Should I cross them out?”

“No,” Tish said, giving Camilla a playful, albeit pointed, look. “That is an egregious abuse of our power.”

If I recalled, Buxom was the name of another brothel. I smiled as Camilla clicked away.

“Egregious,” she repeated. “Is that another one of your words?”

“Yes, it is!”

“Whatever. I’m finished my set. Y’all close to being done?”

“You’re done already?” I asked, frowning. I was only about halfway through my bunch.

“Camilla cheats,” Tish said to me. “She only approves the ones she likes, so I’ll likely have to go through them and make changes anyway.”

“I cheat by knowing all the business names the traffickers and rinky-dink brothels use,” Camilla corrected, spinning in the chair. “If they weren’t lazy, they’d register multiple names to keep their identities more hidden.”

Tish hummed, looking at her tablet. “Must be nice to be on the inside.”

Camilla opened her mouth to say something when the door opened. I froze, expecting Alexei. It would be our luck that he would walk in and see us misusing his office while he wasn’t around. But it was just Lucca, wearing scrubs and holding a set of keys. He looked surprised to see us, but not at all bothered.

“What are you guys doing in there?” he asked, walking over to Alexei’s desk and opening a drawer.

“Approving the businesses for the job fair,” Tish told him, smiling at him. “Are you heading in to work, or just getting off?”

“Going in,” Lucca said absentmindedly, finding a file he was looking for. He opened it, grabbing a pen from the holder on the Alexei’s desk, writing some things down. “How did you guys get in? I’m the only other one with the keys.”

“Magic,” Camilla bragged, waving her hand and leaving behind a trail of fire. She had been very excited to break the seals on the room before picking the lock. “If I’m here, who is watching Angel?”

“His sitter.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? I have nothing to do today and I’m so bored!”

“You could always spend the day with me if you’re that bored.”

Everyone’s heads snapped to the door where a woman was standing. I could feel the immediate tension in the room. The woman was tall, domineering with beautiful dark brown skin and almond eyes that watched us all like a lioness. Her hair was cornrowed back, the tips of her braids resting against her fitted, dark grey suit. She had a mole under her left eye that somehow made her look even more dangerous.

Camilla stood up while Lucca straightened.

“Al,” Lucca said, giving her a tight smile. “What a surprise. What brings you here?”

I really went still then. Al? As in Al Faust? As in _the_ Al Faust?

 _Fuck_.

I wondered if I could go invisible if I just stayed really still.

Al walked in, giving Lucca a pleasant smile. She walked behind the couch Tish was sitting in, pausing behind her.

“I was looking for this one, actually,” she said, tracing a finger along the back of Tish’s neck. “I heard you had a stray cat following you.”

At that, her eyes went straight to me. This had to have been what men felt looking into the eyes of Medusa right before being turned to stone.

“What business do you have with Andres?” Camilla snapped, fury in her voice.

Al held my gaze a second longer before turning to look at her.

“Camilla, dearest,” Al purred, leaning against the back of the couch. “I was serious earlier. I really would love for you to come work for me.”

“Return everything that was mine if you’re that concerned with mending our relationship, Amira, love.”

“I’ve taken nothing from you that you could not take back yourself. It’s not my fault you refuse to stand in your power.”

“Stand in this,” Camilla spat, lifting her hand.

Before anyone else could react, Lucca grabbed her wrist.

“I literally do _not_ have time for any of this,” he said, rather unkindly. Camilla reluctantly put her hand down, and only then did Lucca let go. He turned to Al. “Can you stop antagonizing everyone for once and just get to the point?”

“You can all leave if my presence is upsetting you,” Al said, shrugging as she walked around the couch and sat down next to Tish. For her credit, Tish didn’t flinch nor move as Al sat close to her. Al stretched her arms along the back of the couch. “I’m only here for Mr. Andres de la Vega.”

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. _Fuck_.

“Yeah, so you can eat him alive?” Camilla growled, her glare intensifying. “No thanks. We’ll stay.”

Al sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. She hit a few buttons before showing it to me. They were pictures of me. And Evan. From that night I ran into him. They weren’t a great resolution, nor were they at the best angle. Most of them only had my back, though there was one of me looking enough towards the camera where I could be identified. I was sure it was when I saw Josh giving the surprised look on my face, but Josh was cropped out of the picture.

If I didn’t know the exact context of why Evan was holding me, it would look like we were hugging. A young couple enjoying, and maybe getting overwhelmed by, the noisy chaos of the French Quarter. Like a happy married couple.

“You’re becoming quite the celebrity, Andres de la Vega,” Al said, putting her phone down on the coffee table so I could stare at the last picture. “I’m Al, by the way. Faust. Pleasure, I’m sure.”

I looked up at her, a thousand thoughts racing through my head. Why did she have those pictures? Who took them? If Al Faust had them, did that mean they were published somewhere? Would this affect my case? I was due in court next Friday. Did the Willows’ lawyer have these pictures?

“Is that supposed to be Andres?” Tish asked next to Al, leaning forward and looking at the pictures. “You can barely make out—”

“Oh, Tish. He has a very distinct profile, don’t you think?” Al kindly interrupted. She seemed to like Tish. Al turned back to me. “You have any idea what I do, Andres de la Vega?”

Why did she have to say my entire name like that?

“Not in detail,” I admitted, shrugging. “A lot of diplomatic stuff, I assume.”

“Diplomatic stuff. Hmm. See, _I_ am the very reason the Nation doesn’t just nuke us out of existence.”

Ah. She was dramatic. Interesting.

“You think I’m joking,” she said, baring her teeth at me.

I blinked. “Oh, you’re not?”

“If you heard the threats I had to hear on a daily, you would know I am not.”

Also interesting.

I glanced at her phone again, understanding her point. So my story had gotten to her. As did these pictures someone took to make it look like I had gone running into Evan’s arms, willingly. Happily.

“I was out on a date, actually,” I told her, shrugging to pretend this wasn’t bothering me. “I happened to run into Evan. Literally.”

“Really?” Al said, tilting her head. It would have been adorable if anyone else did it, but when she did, it looked dangerous.

“Really.” The word came out forcefully, and I could see Al’s eyes dilate just a bit. I reached forward, my hand hovering over the phone. I saw the colorful lines of magic start to move around it before I felt the heat stir through my body. “You can’t tell this picture is cropped?”

“Excuse you?” Al all but snapped.

Letting my magic answer her, I twisted and pulled the lines until the picture projected itself above the phone. Only now it was the full picture: Josh standing over us, threatening, with Lyle holding my hand.

From this angle, the night came back to me and I realized who had to have taken the picture. The boy and woman I saw handing out flyers right before I bumped into Evan. The ones whose yelling distracted me. I had forgotten all about them, but one of them must have pulled out a phone and taken the picture.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Tish whispered in awe.

“That’s because few people are inept enough to fuse magic with technology,” Camilla said, her eyes wide as she came around the desk for a closer look. She smirked. “I’m sure Al couldn’t do it if she tried.”

“Very little is difficult for me, Camilla, dearest,” Al said, looking at the photo. “Besides, I’m quite aware that the pictures were cropped. I cropped them myself.”

“Excuse you?” I snapped.

“Then why grill him like that?” Camilla said through clenched teeth.

Al didn’t answer right away, standing with a fluid ease and waving her hand over my projection. I saw the way she cracked and pulled my magic, the projections dissipating in an instant. The phone then jumped up into her hand, which she quickly put away. Her dark eyes stayed on me while she worked, and I held her gaze. I was suddenly aware that this had be less about the picture and more about me.

“I hate getting involved in these things,” she said to no one in particular. “It’s messy, it’s petty, and there are a million better things I could be doing with my time.”

“So?” Camilla said, crossing her arms over her chest. She sounded like a child. Like a little sibling tired of hearing her older sister mouth off.

“So if I must get dragged in, I want to be prepared. And the only thing I hate more than getting involved is looking like a fool when it’s all over because _someone_ is unsure of his intentions.”

“I’m very clear on how I want this all to end, Ms. Faust,” I said, not smiling despite my sickening sweet tone. “I appreciate the concern.”

“I’m sure,” Al said, rather dismissively. “Tell me, Andres de la Vega; are you excited to move into your new house?”

I froze. Why did she know that? How did she know that? Okay, maybe that’s a moot point: she _was_ Al Faust. The second my case reached her desk, it likely came with a dossier detailing every little fact about me. I could tell by the way she watched me, her smirk more a slight snarl, that she knew she had tripped me up.

A weakness. And she was ready to pounce.

“You have a lot going on, don’t you?” she continued, walking back towards the door. “Your teaching gig in the fall. Your relationship with your new boyfriend developing. Ah, young love. I hope it doesn’t take him too long to find a job down here. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could move in over the summer?”

“What are you antagonizing him for?” Lucca spoke up then, his eyes narrowed at her.

“I’m not,” Al said, turning in front of the door to stare us down again. “It’s an honest question. But he is rather speechless isn’t he? I did ask a lot of questions, so just answer this one, Andres de la Vega: are you committed to building your future here in Faust City, or are you entertaining the idea of returning to your husband?”

“Of course, I intend to stay here,” I said. And it was when I spoke that her own intentions became clear. So I added, “By any means necessary.”

Al gave me a nod before turning to Camilla.

“My wards, like all magic, are influenced by intention,” she started.

“Oh my god,” Camilla said, rolling her eyes. “Please. Everyone here except Tish can use magic, so spare me the fucking 101 lesson and get to your fucking point.”

I could tell that Camilla was really driving Al up a wall. Still, Al did hold herself together pretty well. She merely blinked, slowly, at Camilla. Like a lioness debating whether to just go for the neck or let the gazelle hop away free.

“How about a history lesson then?” Al said sweetly. “The city was designed to protect those wishing to escape where they came from. Typically the Nation. Meaning the wards are designed to protect people who fight like hell to be here. Their intentions are very strong: they want to be in Faust City, and they have no intentions of going back.”

“But we’re different because we’re born here,” Tish said, looking up at Al. “Is that it?”

Al’s smile was more genuine when she directed it at Tish. “Yes. Not so much different; just that we take our freedom, our way of life, for granted. The wards are absolute: if you do not wish to leave the city, then no one can force you. But even the slightest of wavering could be enough for a skilled practitioner to exploit.”

“Really?” Lucca mused, the red tattoos on his hand lighting up with magic. “So the wards on the city aren’t absolute?”

“Maintaining the wards over the city is incredibly exhausting. And no, the spells are not perfect. Always improved upon, but not quite perfect.”

“Hmm,” Camilla said, smirking. “That sounds like a ‘you suck’ problem to me.”

“Camilla, I swear to God if you were not m—”

“Shssshhhhh,” Camilla exclaimed, looking at me with an odd bit of panic in her eyes. “Sensitive ass bitch. Fine. I’ll lay off.”

I watched Camilla, who was now making a point to not look at me. _Very fucking interesting_.

“Does it matter in Andres’ case anyway?” Lucca asked, pretending Camilla hadn’t spoken. “It’s not like anyone from the Willows can use magic.”

Al’s eyes darted to me, and I should have known she knew this as well.

“They do have someone who can use magic,” I said, answering Lucca’s question. “Evan can.”

“Oh wow,” Tish said, her eyes wide. “That’s rare.”

“Very,” Camilla said, looking concerned now. “Is it similar to ours? Or at least the magic that surrounds the city?”

I shrugged. “I spent most of my time at the Willows with my magic bound. I didn’t have a chance to really examine it.”

“Is it powerful?”

I sighed, thinking. “Not particularly. When I asked about it, he said it was more of a mysticism practice. Only passed down from leader to leader. But…”

Shit. This part was on me.

“But what?” Lucca pressed.

“He knows how to read magic,” was all I was willing to say.

I couldn’t stand to admit that I was the one who taught him how.

“Shit,” Camilla breathed. “You might be a little fucked.”

“Well, Andres de la Vega here has confirmed that his intentions are to stay,” Al said, watching me again. “So I’m sure I can trust he won’t make me look like an idiot by running back to his husband.”

It was a statement, but she waited like it was a question. Still, I had already answered her on that front, so I just watched her back. I could almost hear her counting in her head, hitting five, before tilting her head again.

Very dangerous.

“Interesting,” she said, as if noting something aloud. “I’ve referred to him twice now as your husband and you’ve failed to correct me both times.”

I blinked. “I’m sor—”

“As your _ex_ -husband?”

I didn’t really have an answer to that. I had barely caught it. With Evan, I thought of him as a lot of things. And he was, technically, my ex-husband. At least in Faust City. But in the Nation, we were still bound by law. Until all this with court was over. That was the point; to have our marriage annulled legally in the Nation.

So, technically, both was right. Al wasn’t wrong. That was why I hadn’t corrected her.

Or, at least, that was the reason I told myself.

“Right,” she said, sounding entirely unimpressed. “Nice meeting you, Andres de la Vega. I implore you to do your best to prevent me from having to get involved in this matter. Tish, a pleasure as always. Lucca, please stop by the estate for dinner on Sunday; you know my family misses Angel terribly. And Camilla?”

Camilla froze, doing her best to try not to look like a deer in headlights.

“I will see you tonight,” Al concluded, before turning and leaving.

The door slammed shut behind her without her even touching the door.

I felt everyone let out a breath. Lucca moved, finishing whatever he was in the folder, before moving to leave.

“Do I need to leave my keys, or can you figure out how to lock up when you’re done?” he asked, pausing at the door.

“I got it,” Tish said, smiling prettily. “I know how to get in and out without magic.”

“Of course, you do,” Lucca muttered, before waving and leaving.

Camilla kicked the side of the desk. “Fucking bitch. Walking in here like that and ruining both my day _and_ night.”

“Are you dating Al Faust?” I asked her, even more suspicious.

She claimed to hate Al, but they were too close. Too familiar. And Al tolerated way too much disrespect for someone she didn’t have genuine love for. If they weren’t family, they had to be lovers. Or maybe ex-lovers who just can’t quit each other?

But the look of disgust on Camilla’s face was also genuine. For all the love Al had for her, Camilla held nothing but hate. Tish hid a giggle behind her hand, watching as Camilla straightened, turning a glare at me.

“No,” she said so forcefully that the room’s temperature rose a few degrees. A few noticeable degrees. “ _Absolutely fucking not_. No way in _hell_. That’s not even funny. Don’t even fucking joke about something that fucking gross.”

“Y’all got some kind of history,” I pushed. She wasn’t lying, per say; just not saying the full truth. “Lovers turned enemies now working your way to friends?”

“Andres, I swear I will kill you if you keep going. You might be precise with your magic, but mine will eviscerate you in a second.”

“Eviscerate,” Tish said, pulling out her phone. “I like the sound of that. Maybe I’ll make it my word next week?”

“Fuck y’all,” Camilla said, heading to the door.

“Camilla, where are you going?” Tish called after her.

Camilla swung the door open, the movement swaying her long black dress dramatically. She looked over her shoulder at us.

“To the bar. If I have to spend the night with Al Faust, then I’m going to be black out drunk while I do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy September, y'all! Fall is in the air! My favorite season! Can you smell it?!
> 
> I'm so excited for the weather to change. I haven't been inconvenienced by the heat this year since the pandemic has kept my ass inside at all times lol. BUT, I'm so excited for pumpkin spiced everything lol! Yes, I'm one of those hoes. I used to scoff at it until I actually tried a pumpkin spiced latte and was like "oh, okay, yeah, I'm going to make this my thing." 
> 
> Tbqh, I mostly obsess over starbucks and pumpkin spice things because I remember when those "basic white girl" jokes started online. I've been very active online for a VERY long time, and it was originally used in the context of white "feminists" constantly speaking over Black and brown feminists online. So we started calling them basic, and then some dude made that famous joke about a white girl showing up late to his class every day wearing uggs, yoga pants, and with a starbucks coffee. And then I started seeing people associate those things with white girls (huh???) and then that became the "basic white girl" starter pack. 
> 
> I was bitter and was like "my Black ass is going to love all that shit just to prove a point that assigning random things as a 'white girl thing' is dumb and stupid."
> 
> I mean, also, Starbucks coffee is the only one that actually wakes me up so that too lol. 
> 
> That was random. Anyway, Al! Woot! My next story will have more of Al, and we'll finally learn what the hell Camilla's beef with her is lol. Can you guess what their connection is? I'm not giving any hints, but how close do you think Andres was? Lol. 
> 
> When I write Al, I think "what could she do/say to turn me on?" lol. -in Beyonce's voice- She got a big ego. Lol. Imagine a woman like her just showing up and pulling this. How could you not find her sexy? 
> 
> Al often wears her hair in cornrows because she hates having to deal with it. But she actually prefers it when she has it fluffed out because she thinks it makes her look like a lion. And because of her reputation, she knows it tends to disarm men when they meet her; they'll think she's pretty only for her to (usually figuratively, but sometimes literally) stomp their dicks into the ground. 
> 
> But if she's meeting with men who already know her or have met her before, it's a waste of time. She doesn't get to meet new people often, actually. She was mostly teasing Andres, but it was basically a warning. She says she doesn't want to get involved and it's pretty much her way of saying she won't. So if things escalate, she's not stepping it. 
> 
> That's actually scarier than if she was going to step in. Not that Andres knows that, but he's lowkey fuuuuuuuucked lol. 
> 
> Al was able to intervene with those pictures, though. They're not going to be published, though they might be used in court. It was a situation where they came across her desk and she knew what the narrative was going to be, so she killed any possibility of the press or whatever posting them and then headed straight to where Andres was to let him know he better fucking NOT go back to Evan lol. 
> 
> Lucca's "work" is his clinicals. He's been working so hard; after a year of that, he'll be able to graduate and be a fully fledged nurse! Go him! 
> 
> Not sure what else to say. This chapter was pretty gratuitous. I just wanted to write a scene with Camilla, Lucca, and Al all in the same room because it's going to be a LONG time before that happens again. It'll be the only time this story it'll happen, so yeah. It's a shame Camilla is so aggressive because it doesn't give Lucca a chance to really lean into his disdain for Al. His beef with Al is just her general tendency to insert her ass in other people's shit. But I think we all gleamed that from when Lucca met her in the last story, right? 
> 
> Well, next official update is next month, BUT I'm off this upcoming Thursday and Friday. AND I'm off Monday for Labor day. Maybe a weekend bomb? Sounds like a plan....! 
> 
> Please leave comments, y'all!


	40. Chapter 40

“Are you worried?”

I laid out on the floor, in front of the cold fireplace, shaking my head. I held my phone above me so Lyle could see. I was floating on air. The house was mine. I did all the paperwork, got the keys that morning, and had spent the rest of the afternoon just wandering around the house.

It really was the perfect size for me: one story with two bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. A spacious living room, a nice kitchen that reminded me of my parents’, and a basement that already had a washer and dryer installed. The previous owners were buying a new one for their own new house, and didn’t even want anything extra for it. Nice couple.

The living room had a beautiful fireplace, which I wasn’t too partial too, but Lyle had really liked it. I knew it would never get that cold to use it, but he was used to the hard winters in Canada. He imagined spending next winter curled on the couch with me, the fire crackling while we watched the evening news over whatever we scavenged for dinner.

It was so sweet a vision that I didn’t have the heart to spoil it for him.

And it did look nice. The sun was setting, but I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. I had called Lyle and we’d been talking for hours. Only belated did I think to mention the fact that I met Al Faust. After he asked a million questions about what she was like—just like my parents did when I saw them that evening—he seemed worried about the nature of the talk.

“She has to be,” Lyle pushed, sounding nervous. “I mean, if she went out of her way to see you.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, because I had to tell everyone else that. God forbid I freak out about something. “I just say my piece on Friday and then I’m done with this.”

“I know,” Lyle said, frowning on the screen. “I just can’t believe they took pictures of that. They’ll probably try to bring it up. Maybe I should come down; I could testify that—”

“Talking about Evan is killing my boner,” I said, turning over to my stomach.

Lyle paused at that as I settled. I snapped my finger, a fire lighting up in the fireplace. I smiled.

“This will look so nice in the dark,” I said. “Like a red glow. Much better than LED lights.”

“Yeah,” Lyle said, his face relaxing into a smile. “I think the first night I stay there, I’m going to fuck you in front of it.”

“That wasn’t what you were saying before,” I teased. “You were gushing about winter nights cuddled on the couch. Very chaste thoughts.”

“That’s because the realtor was there. I was really thinking about how cute you’d look in front of it on your hands and knees with my dick in you.”

Well, fuck.

“So you lied to me just so I’d buy this house? I’m hurt.”

“You’re lying if you said you weren’t—”

Lyle was cut off by an incoming phone call. I frowned, annoyed that someone was trying to interrupt us. I didn’t recognize the number, so I ignored it.

“Who was that?” Lyle asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t answer numbers I don’t know.”

“Are you sure it’s not the bank or the owners?”

“No, because I—”

My phone rang again. It was the same number. I sat up.

“They’re calling again.”

“Maybe they have a wrong number. Just answer it and tell them.”

“No, because I have my voicemail set up. They would have gone there and heard it wasn’t whoever they’re trying to call if that was the case.”

The call finally went to voicemail. Hopefully, they’d figure I wasn’t near my phone and just leave a message.

“Oh!” I said, remembering something. “So, I’m going to get a really good quality webcam right before I move. That way, when you’re not here, we can—”

My phone started ringing again.

“Andres, just answer it and tell them to stop calling,” Lyle said, already moving to hang up. “Call me back.”

I started to protest, but Lyle hung up. I stared at the number, pissed. How dare someone try to stop me from talking dirty to my boyfriend? I accepted the call, making sure all my annoyance and anger was put into my one-word answer.

“Hello?”

“ _Mi sol_.”

I went cold. In a panic, I stood up, waving my hand to put out the fire. I looked around, the house suddenly feeling too big. Too empty. Too many rooms and corners where someone could be hiding. And the sky was noticeably darker.

“Don’t ever call here again,” I snapped, hanging up.

I stared at my phone, feeling numb. It was Evan. That was Evan’s voice. Evan had just called me. Evan had my number. My phone started ringing again, and I jumped. I stared at it, the same number calling. Was he just going to keep calling me?

I moved to block the number, ignoring how hard my fingers were shaking. It took three tries, but I finally got it to block. I let out a sigh, looking around. Everything was spinning. It was getting darker, and I was alone in an empty house with my kidnapper and rapist calling me.

Was he here? Could he see me? I tried to move, my knees locking when I took a step before my legs gave out entirely. I fell, my phone hitting the ground hard, the screen cracking in the corner. Shit. Now I had to get that fixed at some point. Shit.

My phone started ringing again. A new number I didn’t recognize. I knew I shouldn’t answer it, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. I held the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked, my voice shakier than before.

“Do _not_ hang up on me again, _mi sol_ ,” Evan said through the phone, his voice hard. “That was very rude. You should apologize to me.”

I shook my head. Not that he could see it. I felt so helpless suddenly. Weak.

“I’ve been keeping track this entire time, Andres,” Evan continued when I didn’t say anything. “Do you want to know how high you are?”

“No.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“One hundred and twenty-four. I’m not looking forward to beating you, _mi sol_.”

“How do you have my number?” I asked, pretending I didn’t hear that.

“Your lawyer should protect her office more. It wasn’t hard to find someone to sneak in and clone her phone.”

I wasn’t breathing. I brought the phone down, trying to take deep breaths. That didn’t work either. I felt my heart start to race then: was I going to suffocate? I brought the phone back up to my ear.

“Please don’t call me again,” I said.

“You do not get to decide that, Andres. You are my wife. I have every right to have access to you. Where _are_ you, by the way?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re usually home by now since you have work tomorrow. Unless you’re at that one guy’s place, acting like a little whore. That tall guy who drives the Mustang. Yet that pretty car you just bought is not in your parents’ driveway.”

My vision went blurry, clearing momentarily every time I blinked. It wasn’t until I spoke again that I realized it was because I was crying.

“Leave me alone,” I said, my voice cracking. I tried to take a calming breath, but couldn’t. “Please, stop. Just leave me alone.”

“This all stops when you come home, Andres. It’s very simple.”

I shook my head. “Please. I don’t want to.”

“I never wanted any of this either. but you’re the one who left, _mi sol_. Now apologize and tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.”

“No,” I said, openly crying now. I wiped my face, not sure what to do. How did I make this stop?

“Andres, please. I’m tired of all this fighting. All this court nonsense. It’s time to come home.”

“I’m sorry,” I whined, though I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing. For hanging up earlier? For running? For telling him no?

“It’s okay, Andres. I just want this to all be over. Where are you?”

“No.”

“ _Andres_.”

“I’m not telling you that. Please, just don’t call me again.”

“You’re making me angry, Andres,” Evan said, very calmly. “You know I do not like to act in anger. Stop this nonsense. _Now_.”

“I’m going to hang up,” I warned him before doing just that.

I dropped my phone on the ground, crying. I jumped when my phone rang again. The same previous number Evan called me from. I tried to block it, but my hands were shaking too badly. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so helpless. So alone. How was I going to get home?

My phone rang again. This time, a video call from Lyle. I struggled to answer, but managed it before it went to voicemail. I had hit the button to make it just a voice call, however.

“Andres?” Lyle asked, obviously confused. “What took so long? Who called?”

I couldn’t stop the sobs then. I collapsed on the ground, moving the phone near my head, shutting my eyes to try to block out what had just happened. I hated how far away Lyle was. If he lived in Faust City, he could at least hop in his car and drive over. But he was over a thousand miles away. In fucking Canada. What was I going to do?

“Andres, please talk to me,” Lyle begged me, his voice sounding desperate. “Do you need me to call the police? An ambulance? What’s going on?”

“H-he called me!” I managed, before another wave of sobs hit.

“Okay. Okay, it’s okay. Does he know where you are?”

“No,” I said, now being forced to replay our conversation. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I can’t move! Lyle!”

“Shhh. It’s okay, Andres. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’ll catch a redeye, okay? I’ll be there soon, but you gotta get home. Can you call your parents?”

My phone started ringing again. Another number I didn’t recognize.

“He’s calling me again,” I whined, fresh new panic seizing me. “I can’t make it stop. No matter how many times I block him, he keeps calling me!”

“Now, Grace!” Lyle shouted away from the phone. “It’s okay, Andres. I’m going to call your mother. What’s her number? Can you tell me that?”

I nodded. It was the same number she had since I was a kid: when she would have me recite it every day on my way to school in case I ended up somewhere strange and needed to call her. I told Lyle, and he tried to calm me down. I closed my eyes: at least that way I wouldn’t see when I was getting a new call. And the line beep when an incoming call started was easy to ignore.

I tried to focus on Lyle’s voice, listening to him talk to my mother over the phone. I couldn’t hear her, but I heard Lyle explain the situation. Explain that I was stuck at my empty house, alone.

“I don’t want to be here alone,” I said to Lyle. “This was such a stupid idea. I can’t be here alone.”

“I’ll be moving in with you,” Lyle tried to console me. “You won’t be alone.”

“We don’t even know when you can move! Until then, I’m going to be fucking alone! I don’t want to be alone here. He’s going to find out I’m here. How am I going to stop him?”

“He can’t make you leave. Isn’t that what you were just telling me?”

Lyle didn’t understand. Evan would make me want to leave. Somehow. He’d find that weakness Al was talking about. He would win.

“Your parents are on their way, Andres. Just stay on the line with me, okay?”

I could hear Lyle moving around, packing a bag. I could hear his sister in the background, asking questions. Asking about me. Asking if Lyle was insane.

“I’ll be at the airport soon,” Lyle was saying, trying to comfort me. “I’m on my way, okay? And your parents are going to get you, and you’ll be safe. Okay? Don’t worry.”

My phone beeped again, and I glanced down at the phone, terrified. But I didn’t need to be: it was my mother.

“My mother is calling me,” I said.

“Okay. Talk to her, okay? My ride is here. Stay on with her until they get there, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Andres.”

“Okay,” I said, hanging up. I quickly picked up my mother’s call. “Mama?”

“Oh, Andres, honey!” she said, going a mile a minute. “Your father and I are on our way. Is the door unlocked?”

I couldn’t remember. “I don’t know,” I told her, more tears coming. “I don’t know! What if he gets here before you?”

“He won’t, Andres, _mijo_. We’re almost there. Does he know where you are?”

“No. I don’t know. He knew I wasn’t home!”

“It’s okay, Andres. Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re safe. I got you. You’re safe, okay?”

But I wasn’t safe. Not really. Not with Evan out there, determined to take me back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a morbid way to kick off this weekend bomb? Ahh, I'm sorry. Next chapter isn't that bad! I promise! 
> 
> This is psychological warfare, mayne! Evan really sucks! 
> 
> So with this, our weekend bomb begins. Ngl, I might end up skipping Sunday as I'm going to the beach then! I plan on adhering to COVID rules and I'm bringing some masks with me in case. And hand sanitizer. I'm not being stupid with it. Either way, depending on when I get home, I might be too tired to upload. If that's the case, I'll wrap up this bomb on Monday. Not sure how it'll go, but just a warning in case you don't see an upload on Sunday. 
> 
> With that, I also have an announcement. After this weekend's bomb, I will be returning with weekly uploads. In preparation for NaNoWriMo, I want to give myself the challenge of finishing this story by the end of September. I still feel like the story is meandering a bit, but I intend to start hitting plot points to move the story along. I actually just realized that there's only a few more I need to hit before I can finally go into the last action sequence and end this ish. I hope this stays under 200K words lol. We'll see. 
> 
> But with that motivation, I decided that despite all my bitching about the stress of the uploads being on the heels of what I've written, that was great motivation to write. I haven't been writing a lot recently. In fact, I don't think I really did ANY real writing with this story for most of August. I legit went WEEKS not writing. And it was easy to do that when I knew I had like 15+ chapters ahead of where the upload was and I was only committing to monthly updates. 
> 
> I hate stress, but stress is the best motivator for me. Being under pressure and knowing I have to keep banging out chapters in order to stay ahead of uploads is the main thing that makes me think in certain moments "hey, go sit down and write tonight." So I'm going back to weekly uploads. 
> 
> I previously was concerned about uploading on Sundays, as I felt those didn't work for a host of reasons. As such, I'm going to be moving uploads to Thursdays. Kind of like a TGIT thing. Lol. So that will start this upcoming Thursday after the bomb. 
> 
> Pressure is on now! Woot! Wish me luck! 
> 
> Thank you all as always and please leave comments with what you think of this chapter and the new upload schedule! :3 
> 
> See y'all tomorrow!


	41. Chapter 41

“She’s pissing me off.”

Zeke gave me a sympathetic smile as we both watched Jackie whisper to a group of girls not far from us from the corner of our eyes. Exactly six girls, I noticed. Three on each side, leaning in and listening as she mumbled about something that was obviously about me. If the way she threw her hair back, pretending she didn’t see us not-watching her wasn’t the giveaway, then the few girls who stupidly glanced over at me were.

“She’s just a bit of a gossip,” Shiloh said on my other side, ignoring her to focus on his food. He’d been eating a lot better recently. I think it helped that Zeke took my attention a bit more at meals to gossip, giving Shiloh plenty of time to finish his plates. “She’s harmless.”

“I don’t care how harmless she is,” I grumbled, deciding I was done with my own plate. “She’s pissing me off.”

“Who is?” Serenity asked, sitting across from me. She’d been spending most of lunch making sure the children in the daycare ate, and was relieved from duty once the second shift women took over to take the kids back inside for their naps.

“Jackie,” Zeke answered before I could, obviously excited to let someone else know what was causing my foul mood. “Ever since Andres told her off the other day, she’s been doing stuff to push his buttons.”

Serenity glanced down at Jackie, frowning.

“Like how?”

“Like how she started that rumor that Andres is stealing contraception from the birthing center,” Zeke told her, leaning in and lowering his voice so no one else would here. “Which is obviously just her being jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” I grumbled.

“Because you haven’t gotten your period since you got here,” Zeke said knowingly, raising his eyebrows at me.

I glanced at Serenity, who looked concern. I gave her the slightest of a head shake, just enough that Zeke wouldn’t notice. He was too busy watching Jackie to pay too close attention to me, however.

“It’s nothing to be jealous over,” I said casually, watching as Laura Mae approached with a baby in her arms. “It’s like Shiloh said: these things take time.”

“It wouldn’t take her so long if she was actually trying,” Laura Mae said, sitting down next to Serenity. The baby immediately reached for Serenity; I wondered if he recognized her from the day care. Laura Mae happily handed him over. “Awww, Tyler remembers you!”

“At least he’s polite enough to remember who he threw up on,” Serenity said, smiling down at him as she sat him in his lap. He was old enough hold himself up, and he reached for the food on Serenity’s plate. Serenity pushed it away, shaking her head. “Nope; he just wanted my food.”

“Insatiable brat,” Laura Mae said as she made herself a plate. “I tell Christy to feed him more often, but she complains he’s been biting her since he started teething.”

Tyler babbled something incoherent, and everyone gushed over him. Everyone except Zeke, who was too focused on what Laura Mae had said about Jackie.

“Why wouldn’t you think she’s trying?” he asked innocently. “Nicky said he hears them just about every night.”

“Nicky knows better than to say otherwise,” Laura Mae said, shrugging. “As if Mrs. Ruthanne wants it known her daughter is being defiant.”

I blinked. Fucking shit.

“Jackie is Mrs. Ruthanne’s daughter?” I asked.

“You didn’t know?” Laura Mae asked, looking surprised. “They look alike. Well, I guess with Mrs. Ruthanne starting to look her age, maybe you wouldn’t catch that.”

“That’s really why she’s so jealous,” Zeke said, smiling at me, his leg shaking. He did that when he had something juicy to share.

“Because I’m not a deacon’s child?” I asked, glancing up at the table. The deacons were sitting there at the moment, across from their wives. The man across from Mrs. Ruthanne was stern looking, his attention more on the other men as they spoke.

“No, because _you_ snagged Evan.”

I wanted to say that if that was her problem, she could have him. But I also recognized I wasn’t in polite enough company to say that without it causing problems.

“So she’s mad I stole her crush?” I grumbled. “All that attitude for that?”

“You didn’t steal her crush: you stole her fiancé.”

Now I was even more confused. Jackie had already been married by the time I got to the compound. What was Zeke talking about? I glanced at Laura Mae, who was rolling her eyes at Zeke’s cryptic remarks.

“Just tell the whole story, or I will,” she warned Zeke before winking at me.

“It goes back to Mother and Mrs. Ruthanne,” Zeke said quickly, obviously not wanting that. I had to try not to giggle at his predictability. “They grew up as friends, you know? And Father and Deacon Dunn also grew up close. It worked out with Father choosing Deacon Dunn as his second that their wives got on so well.”

“Second?” That was the first I heard about that.

“Kinda like the second in charge. It’s more so important when Evan was young. The second would take over if anything happened to Father before Evan came of age. Doesn’t really matter now. I heard that Evan’s grandfather was really close to his second, but their wives notoriously despised each other. So Father didn’t want that. I heard a rumor that Father told Deacon Dunn to marry Ruthanne just so it wouldn’t.”

“That’s a baseless rumor,” Laura Mae said. “My mother said all four of them hung out thick as thieves growing up. It just made sense.”

“Hmm,” Zeke said, obviously not buying it. I couldn’t blame him: the former story _was_ more interesting. “Either way, Mrs. Ruthanne and Mother apparently wanted to try to have their children get together. Like some old school royal thing: join their houses. I heard they were trying to get pregnant together, but Mother ended up having a child first.

“And since she had a boy, that meant the pressure was on Mrs. Ruthanne to have a girl. But the years passed and nothing. It got so bad that she had to go to fertility doctors off the compound. She finally had Jackie, but she was like six or so years younger.”

“Is Jackie her only child?” I asked.

“Oh, heavens no. She has seven in total. Apparently after having Jackie, it was like opening a dam. It was just a matter of her getting that first one. I guess it could be the same with Jackie, now that I think about it. She just needs to get that first one.”

“But she’s not trying,” Laura Mae said, lowering her voice so no one around us could hear. “At least she wasn’t before. She’s been sabotaging herself for years. She goes into the bathroom after every time, and Rube just lets her. She’s likely flushing him out of her.”

“That would be stupid. I can’t imagine that working for too long, either. It’s been years.” Zeke shrugged. This obviously wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. He turned back to me. “Either way, that big of a gap doesn’t matter now, but growing up it did, you know? She was always aware that their moms wanted them to get together, but Evan wasn’t having it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why not? Even if he had to wait until she came of age, does it really matter?”

I noticed that major age gaps weren’t uncommon in the Willows. Josh was noticeably older than Shiloh. Kian’s husband, I came to learn, was over a decade older than him. Even Mike was pushing thirty: a fact I was surprised to learn simply because she just didn’t look that old. Evan wasn’t too much older than me, but it was still a couple years. If he was fine with me, I couldn’t see it being that big of a deal getting with someone even younger.

“I think it was because they grew up together,” Laura Mae answered. “She was always chasing after him; he grew up seeing her more like a kid sister. It would have felt weird to get with her, you know?”

“I also don’t think Evan really likes girls,” Zeke said, thinking aloud. Then he glanced at me, as if he said something wrong. “No offense.”

I wasn’t a girl, so I wasn’t sure why I would take offense to that. This was all interesting, though. It explained Jackie’s constant attitude. Why she was so determined to tear me down. She wanted it to look like Evan made the wrong choice. That he should have picked her.

“I don’t think she cares much about Evan himself,” Laura Mae was saying, pulling me from my thoughts. “I think it’s the idea of becoming Mother that she refuses to let go of.”

“That doesn’t explain her behavior,” Zeke said, frowning. “Not getting pregnant as if Evan would leave Andres for her? If she had played her cards right and tried to get close to Andres, Evan might consider Ruben as his second. She could then just hope something would happen to Evan.”

“Evan would never choose Ruben as his second. He’s obviously going to pick Josh.”

Zeke and Laura Mae stopped to look at Shiloh, who had been quietly tearing up a piece of bread into dozens of small pieces and slowly eating it. I could almost taste the disapproval on them. If Josh was going to be Evan’s second, that meant Shiloh was, essentially, going to be mine.

“Stop that,” I muttered, brushing the bread off his plate and onto the ground before grabbing another piece and putting it on his plate. “You’re not a child.”

Shiloh nodded, picking up the bread and biting into it properly.

“You should probably talk to Evan,” Zeke said with one last pointed glance at Jackie. “See who he’s thinking of making his deacons.”

I frowned. “Why? What does that have to do with me?”

“Because their wives become your inner circle. The last thing you want is a wife in your inner circle determined to undermine you.”

I glanced at Jackie, our eyes meeting briefly before she turned away to her own pitiful attempt at an inner circle. I narrowed my eyes at her.

“You might be right on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonne nuit! How is everyone? 
> 
> I just finished trying my hand at acrylic nails! i kinda messed up. Sally's didn't have the proper brushes, so I just got regular nail art brushes. Bwahahaha, it was a mess. Still, I got something going that should at least last until next weekend. I can order proper brushes on Amazon and redo them then lol. I haven't painted them yet, so I have to do that before going to bed. I hope they don't look too bad. Some of the nails look better than others, but some just look ROUGH lol. 
> 
> Ah well. I tried doing this once before like four or five years ago? It was a disaster then too, but that was because I had no idea what I was doing. I've only gotten acrylics once a year ago and I was watching the dude doing them like a hawk because I knew I'd want to do it again myself one day lol. It was fun though. I'll def keep this up. Made my room smell like acrylic like crazy. Whoops. 
> 
> Why are people setting off fireworks right now? ;A; Why did NJ have to make them legal? lol. 
> 
> Anywho, this chapter? I like it! Pretty short and not a lot of action, but I like getting to dump info sometimes. Zeke loves gossiping, so he was in his element here lol. What's funny about Zeke is that he knows everyone's business, but he's good at being smart about who he actually gossips with. People like Andres and Laura Mae know what he's about, but few others do. They think he asks about their lives because he's a nice, sweet, talkative boy who wants the best for everyone. They have no idea he's collecting information like currency lol. 
> 
> He doesn't use it other than just to show off like he did in this chapter. 
> 
> I don't know if this reveal about Jackie is surprising or what. At no point were her and Evan ACTUALLY engaged, mind you. Zeke was being a bit dramatic with that language. But Jackie did grow up expecting them to get hitched one day. As she came of age and it was obvious that Evan had no interest in courting her, her parents pushed her to marry someone else. They didn't really approve of Ruben, but he's a good guy. 
> 
> Ah, I wonder if Laura Mae's theory about Jackie sabotaging pregnancies is correct. Like Zeke said; she's been married for about four years. That would only last for so long. And her mother had fertility issues, so it could be a genetic thing. 
> 
> Hmm....
> 
> Anyway, I need to finish my nails and go to sleep so I'm not crazy tired tomorrow lol. Again, I'll try to upload tomorrow, but in case I don't get the time to, tomorrow's update will be on Monday. And then, a reminder, weekly updates will be returning on Thursdays. So starting with this upcoming Thursday. 
> 
> I think that's it! Leave me some nice and LONG comments to return to! Lol.


	42. Chapter 42

I traced the lines on Evan’s face, from his jaw to his temple, then down to his nose. Lately, I had been waking before him. The first few times I tried to get a head start on getting ready for the day, but Evan had been very annoyed I got out of bed without his permission. So now I just laid in bed watching him sleep until he finally woke up.

He looked normal when he slept. Peaceful. Gentle, even. Beautiful too. The more I got to look at his face, the more I saw that I genuinely liked it. His full lips and long lashes; the wideness of his nose—which he definitely got from his mother—to the fullness of his hair—that he got from his father.

Over and over I found myself thinking that if we had met normally, I really might have fallen in love with him.

I traced my finger down to his lips, debating kissing him like this. Without any pressure to do more. My little secret.

But before I could make my choice, Evan opened his mouth, playfully biting my finger. I let a surprised yelp escape, pulling my hand back. Evan was quick, however, rolling me to my back. Without thinking, I spread my legs so he could settle between them, his boner hitting me through his pants. Without even opening his eyes, he started kissing the side of my neck.

“You’ve been waking me up a lot recently,” he grumbled in my ear.

I wasn’t sure if he was mad, or if that was just the sleep in his voice. He was shimmying out of his underpants: this was only going to end one way.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said, distracted at a particularly sharp nip on my neck. “I was just—”

Whatever I was going to say was gone from my mind when Evan pushed into me. It was much easier taking him now: despite the lack of prep, I quickly accommodated. I let out a breath, trying not to dwell on how nice and big and tight he felt.

Evan was sloppy in the morning, and rough. His only goal in mind being completion. It was easier because he only expected me to take it. I didn’t have to pretend this was driving me crazy; just lie there and breath through it, giving little moans of appreciation whenever he did manage to hit the right spot.

Without a word, Evan fucked me, leaving hickeys along my neck and chest. _It wasn’t bad_ , I told myself. I could do this. Again and again and again. For as long as he wanted me to.

With a low grunt, Evan came inside me. I closed my eyes waiting for him to be done. Waiting for that inevitable moment when he pulled out, rolled over, and the day could begin.

“You’ve been here almost ten weeks,” Evan said after catching his breath.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing but straight white.

“I haven’t been keeping track,” I admitted. It was hard with the way the days blended together.

“Do you track your cycle?”

I felt my body go cold at that.

“No.”

“Hmm,” Evan hummed, moving.

I kept my gaze on the ceiling, listening as he got up and found his pants. When he opened the door and left for the bathroom, he didn’t have to warn me to stay where I was. That had been another lesson I learned very early on. And I didn’t even want to move: I needed to think.

I hadn’t realized so much time had passed. I hadn’t meant to drag this out either. It was easy to put off telling Evan the truth about why I wasn’t pregnant. To tell myself that I needed more time; that I had enough time before he would get suspicious. I needed to tell him the truth before he started thinking something else was causing the issue.

“I need you at my side for breakfast today,” Evan said, suddenly in the room and scaring the shit out of me.

“Okay,” I said, hoping I hid my surprise well. It was just that I was lost in thought was all. “Is it a special occasion?”

“Not particularly.”

The way he said that made it sound like something was going on. Still, he didn’t say anymore; simply moved around the room, getting dressed. If Evan had to insist I sit next to him, that meant we were likely sitting near the head with the deacons and the wives.

There had to be something going on. A holiday? A birthday? I just realized then that I had no idea when Evan’s birthday was. I felt the bed dip as he sat down on the bed, fully dressed in a suit. I sat up finally, moving to kneel next to him so I could fix his tie.

It was funny how normal this morning ritual became: the silent cues that were like clockwork. It had felt like a lot to remember in the beginning, but now it was habit. I was even starting to learn to read Evan, like the patient, plain faced stare he leveled at me when I was crossing a line. Or the small quirk of his eyebrows when I said something that actually impressed him. Or the way he separated his lips, just slightly, when he wanted to kiss me. And even the way he pinched my sides when he needed to correct me.

It was hard to think of Evan as a stranger anymore when I knew all these things about him.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked, finishing up the knot and fixing it before bringing his collar down.

Evan smiled, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

I shrugged. “I just wanted to know. Aren’t wives supposed to know that about their husbands?”

Evan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“November.”

“November what?”

“Thirteenth.”

I frowned. “Were you born on a Friday?”

Evan laughed at that, standing. I stood with him, taking his cue that I was allowed to get dressed now. As I pulled my clothes from the dresser drawer, Evan examined himself in the mirror in the closet. He didn’t even have to fix the knot anymore: my work was perfect.

“You’re being silly,” he told me.

“You totally were,” I said, draping my tunic over my head. I walked over so he could zip it up. Not that I needed him to: he just seemed to like doing it. “Are you superstitious? Is that why you don’t want to admit it?”

Evan wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning down to kiss the back of my neck. I sighed, wondering if he was going to tell me to get back in bed; I was sure we had time for another round before he had to go to work. But all he did was leave a trail of kisses down my neck, nuzzling me as he did so.

I pretended it didn’t make my stomach flutter pleasantly.

“Virgos and Scorpios are very compatible you know,” he muttered in my ear.

I started to ask how he knew I was a Virgo, but then remembered that my birthday was one of the many questions I had to answer during intake. He also wasn’t wrong, which was even more annoying. But that did mean…

“You _are_ superstitious!” I teased. “Or do all the men here know about astrology?”

“Also means your birthday is coming up.”

I didn’t have anything smart to say there, so I didn’t say anything at all. Evan let me go, and I suddenly felt very cold without him holding me. I found my shoes, sliding them on, pretending I couldn’t feel Evan watching me.

“You need to be pregnant before then.”

I straightened and faced him, meeting his eyes while I nodded. I hadn’t trusted myself to speak, and that was a mistake. Evan took two steps to close the distance between us, and he gripped my chin. I winced under his tight hold, already hearing his words before he spoke them.

“When I say something to you, I expect a vocal response,” he reminded me, his voice gentle despite the low pitch it took.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ll be pregnant before my birthday.”

Evan sighed before leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it, happy once he released his grip. I then let him take my hand in his so he could lead me out of the room, out of the house, and to the table.

Something had to be happening. Instead of the usual disarray with everyone sitting wherever they wanted, there was an obvious order at the table. All of the deacons sat near the head with their wives across from them while the young children were down at the other end with their mothers. And everyone else was spread evenly through the table. Father and Mother were sitting at the head, quietly eating.

Evan sat down next to the deacons, and I settled in next to him. On my other side was Josh, Shiloh picking at his food next to him. Shiloh didn’t even notice me, or anyone else around him.

“What’s going on?” I asked Evan again. Everyone was eating and talking like normal. Still, something felt off.

“I told you it was nothing,” Evan said—lied—before gesturing for me to make myself a plate.

I sighed, grabbing enough food for any man watching me to be satisfied and slowly digging in. I watched everyone talk to their neighbors, pretending all was fine. But there were a few solemn faces from the older women and men, a few whispering to each other and looking at the head of the table.

“Is it about the surgery?” Josh was asking Evan over my head.

Asshole.

“Maybe,” Evan said, shrugging as he ate.

“You really don’t know then?”

“I am no different from anyone else.”

Josh hummed, glancing at Shiloh. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Shiloh didn’t answer, instead shoveling a mouthful of eggs into his mouth. Josh looked like he was going to say something, but Father stood up, grabbing everyone’s attention. The table quickly settled into a hush; it was quite amazing seeing how Father commanded respect at the Willows. Everyone’s eyes were astutely on him. Even the children and babies were quiet.

“Good morning,” he started, his voice somehow traveling smoothly down the table. “We have a few happy announcements today. Rumi.”

Mother stood next to her husband, smiling at everyone.

“I’m happy to announce that our next wedding ceremony will be taking pace this weekend. So an early congratulations to Max and Cara, Timothy and Sandra, Asher and Levi, and Rico and Mags.”

I glanced down the table, trying to gauge who these people were. I saw the boy Cara was sitting across from, reaching across the table to hold her hand. She was smiling widely at him, and he at her. Lovebirds. I recognized the boy as one of the students who left in the morning for his college classes. Not much further down from him, I saw one of the boys I’d seen with Jacob the morning he ran sitting quietly next to a man at least twice his age shaking hands with the men around him.

I looked away to hide my scowl.

“On top of that,” Mother continued, “we have ten pregnancies to announce! The holiday season will be bringing in lots of little miracles to celebrate!”

Mother announced the names of the women and surrogates pregnant. I didn’t recognize any of them until the last one: Zeke. That was interesting. Considering how easily he loved talking about others, I was surprised he kept that one secret.

Mother sat down after her announcements, her face shifting to something serious as Father cleared his throat.

“Another thing I wanted to address,” he said, glancing at Evan. “As many of you know, I had to get surgery a few months ago. Many of you might have gleamed that it was my cancer coming back. Sure enough, they did find a tumor that they wanted to remove, and I’d been doing radiation since.”

Evan tensed next to me. I looked down, seeing his hand balled into a fist in his lap. This was news to him. What was interesting was that Father apparently went through this before. The entire compound likely celebrated when it went into remission. But if it was back, that had to be scary.

It meant Evan would lose his father.

I reached down, unclenching his fingers until Evan let me hold his hand. He didn’t move, his eyes on his parents the entire time. He did, however, keep a tight hold on my hand.

“I recently received the results of the testing, and I’m happy to announce I am back in remission.”

There was a collective exhale from the table. Evan didn’t relax though, and neither did I. Despite the good news, there was more to what Father wanted to say. That much was obvious.

“Rumi and I have been praying to God about this,” Father continued. “And I’ve come to understand that God wanted this to be a reminder both of His mercy and His will. Every day we are blessed to be on this earth is another day closer until we are blessed to be in His glory, forever.

“Nothing, in life, is certain. But what I am certain of is that when the Lord calls for me again, I will not be too afraid to answer His call. Whether that day happens within the next year or so, or whether He holds off for quite some years, as a community, we must always be prepared to answer when God calls us home.”

I felt lost. What was that supposed to mean? That if he did get cancer again, he wouldn’t fight it? He would just die? That didn’t make sense. Why leave his family, his congregation, and his entire life if he had a fighting chance? He wasn’t that old to be ready to die yet. Was this what being faithful meant? Embracing death instead of fighting for life?

“With that being said, things must be established before I leave this earth,” Father said, turning to Evan. “Evan, my son, will become the leadership head when I am no longer able. When the time comes, my son, will you answer God’s call?”

“Yes,” Evan said without hesitation, still gripping my hand tightly.

“Then please declare to the Lord and the congregation your second.”

There was another tension throughout the table. I was struggling to keep up. Father wasn’t stepping down now, right? Then why all of this fanfare?

“Joshua Hill,” Evan said, again with no hesitation.

Father nodded once. “Josh, do you answer God’s call?”

“Yes,” Josh said next to him, easily and seriously. “Always.”

Father nodded, smiling. “I thank you both for making this easy.”

Father went on to say some more stuff that I also struggled to understand. It was hard to keep up with it all, honestly. I did understand what it meant that Evan had just named Josh as his second, however. That wasn’t surprising considering what people had said about how close Evan and Josh were. Still, I noticed a few of the men sitting further down from us frowned during the exchange.

Eventually, Father led the congregation in a prayer, and at that, everyone was free to continue with their normal activities. Evan and I finished our breakfast in silence before he checked his pocket watch.

“I’m going to take a half day,” Evan said, reaching for an apple on the table. “Take a late lunch with me.”

“Okay,” I said, squeezing his hand before letting it go. “Should I tell Mrs. Nydia that I won’t be back after lunch?”

“Yes. You’ll be occupied.”

“Occupied in bed?”

Evan smiled, leaning down to kiss me.

“Yes. Very occupied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this chapter. I'm kinda not feeling it. But I wanted to establish time frames and all. 
> 
> So let me tell you about the waste of the day off that was today. The first time I did my acrylics, they weren't good, so I went out of my way to pop them off, redo them, and make them better. And boy did they look good. Then I came here to update, couldn't type well enough to get this part off, and I just popped those suckers off. Hours wasted and I don't even care rn lol. 
> 
> I think I need to stop playing around with looking to have long nails. It's something to let go. I need to be more realistic with what is doable for me in this regard. Same with my hair and whatnot. 
> 
> Ah, so this chapter. Hmmmm. How do you guys feel about it? The next one is more interesting imo. At least you don't have to wait a full week for it, right? I'll be posted on Thursday! 
> 
> Idk what else to say. I'm kinda frustrated over the nail thing so I'm a bit meh rn. 
> 
> See you all on Thursday!


	43. Chapter 43

“I’m taking off work next week,” Evan said as I made his tie.

“Okay,” I said. That probably meant we’d be in bed most of the week.

“We’re going to spend some time with Josh and Shiloh. So we can all get acclimated.”

I adjusted the knot, bringing down Evan’s collar. “Acclimated?”

Evan nodded, sliding me off his lap so he could get up.

“Yes. As my second, you’ll need to get familiar with him.”

I remembered an earlier question I made about orgies what felt like a lifetime ago. I frowned.

“I don’t want him to fuck me,” I told him. Might as well make it obvious I knew what he meant by that remark. I was tired of him trying to surprise me with weird Willows’ customs.

Evan sighed, walking back to me, and leaning over to give me a possessive kiss. I let him, even kissing him back. Better for him to see how submissive I was willing to be as long as he was being reasonable.

“You don’t have a choice, _mi sol_ ,” Evan said with a quick and final kiss on my cheek.

I felt my heart skip, rage heating my veins.

“I don’t _want_ to,” I repeated.

“There’s nothing wrong with Josh,” Evan said as he walked over the drawer for his pocket watch and a handkerchief.

“I’m sure he’s awesome, but I don’t want him fucking me.”

“I let that slide the first time; reign in your language.”

I felt my face heat up. If I was allowed to stand or get off the bed, I would. But instead, I had to sit there, naked, while I politely asked Evan not to let some stranger fuck me.

I fucking hated this.

“Why don’t I have a choice?” I demanded. “He’s not my husband. Why do I have to submit to that?”

“He’s my second,” Evan said, turning around. He looked at my face, and then understanding seemed to dawn on him. “I forget, sometimes, how new you are to all of this.”

“I’m sorry?” I all but snapped.

Evan walked over, sitting down next to me. I wanted to move away, but he quickly wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Josh as my second is more than just him taking over the Willows in the off chance I die before our first son comes of age,” Evan explained. I ignored that part about this hypothetical son Evan thought I would have. “If that happens, he’ll also be responsible for you as well.”

I blinked at him. “Am I special, or is that a general thing here?”

With the swiftness of a viper, Evan popped me straight on the mouth. I gasped, jerking back away from him and covering my mouth with my hand.

“It’s too early in the morning for your attitude, Andres,” Evan warned, his voice low. “One more time, and I’ll take you over my knee. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, looking away. “I understand.”

Evan gave me a curt nod, pulling me back into his arms.

“Now to answer your question, it’s something all couples do. It’s similar to being named someone’s godparent. In this case, if something happens to me, Joshua will take responsibility for you. He will be the one you will answer to, and if you hadn’t met your quota yet, he will ensure you do.”

“My quota,” I repeated. “So I’d have to have his babies?”

“In the worst-case scenario. It would be the reverse with Shiloh if something happened to Josh. In a way, you two are like sister-wives.”

That was disgusting. But I knew better than to say that to Evan. Still…

“But why do we have to have sex now?” I asked. “If this is all supposed to be hypothetical?”

“You need to get familiar with Josh.”

We’d circled back to what started all of this. I sighed, knowing this was a losing battle. Fuck. Fine.

“Okay,” I said.

Evan kissed my forehead. “Get dressed, _mi sol_.”

I nodded, sliding out of his hold and standing. I could feel Evan watching me, and I righteously ignored him.

“There’s no need to be upset over it,” he kept talking despite the fact that I obviously did _not_ want to talk about this. “It’s really just a bonding exercise. Do you think my parents don’t do this with Deacon Dunn and Mrs. Ruthanne?”

“Are we really discussing how your parents have sex right now?” I retorted, grabbing my clothes from the drawer.

Evan laughed. “I’m saying this is common here. Very much so. And you could stand to start bonding with Shiloh more now that I’ve named Josh my second.”

“I’m friends with Shiloh,” I said. “We eat together all the time when I’m not next to you.”

“You’re friendly with him, but you could stand to be closer.”

I thought about that while I got dressed. Mrs. Nydia’s words from the first day I started working with her ringing in my ears.

_Even when Father is replaced with Evan, you still won’t be one of the wives. When that happens, you’ll become Mother._

I walked over to Evan, turning so he could zip me up.

“In that case,” I said, staring at the closet door, “shouldn’t I also bond with the other wives?”

“My mother’s friends?” Evan asked, turning me around and pulling me into his lap. “I mean, I guess if you want to.”

“No. I mean the wives of the men you’ll choose as your deacons.” I wrapped an arm around his neck for good measure. “Who are they?”

Evan hesitated, eyeing me suspiciously. “Who’s asking?”

“I am,” I said, frowning. “Is it a secret?”

Evan sighed. “Not quite a secret. But it’s a bit complicated. Well, political. The current council are not too keen on being reminded that they will be replaced the second my father steps down or passes. Technically, I won’t announce who the new deacons are until then; it’s best not to agitate them.”

I nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. I just want to know which wives will be in my own little circle.”

Evan watched me before kissing me quickly.

“Obviously Josh,” he started. “Sam and Ross are definite too. So that will be Kian and Zeke’s husbands.”

“Kian?” That was fine. I already had Zeke in my pocket and Kian was nice enough, if not a bit antisocial.

“Yes. Sam is very in line with my views. I need a few to contradict me; thus Ross and Josh. But I do need someone on my side. Deacon Brown, however, might not appreciate that choice.”

Curious. “Why not?” I asked innocently. “Does he disagree with your beliefs?”

“Not overly, honestly, but he wouldn’t be too happy about Kian’s husband replacing him. He loves Kian, but he’s all but actually disowned him.”

I blinked. That was news to me. “Disowned? Kian is related to Deacon Brown?”

“His son.” Evan shrugged. “It’s not my story to tell, and I don’t remember all that happened anyway. But Kian got into some trouble when he was a teenager, and it led to his older brothers getting excommunicated. We’ve all long forgiven Kian for it, but his father holds some resentment.”

Interesting. I nodded, taking that in.

“Who are the other three? Do you know?”

“Korbin probably. Only because he’s also a bit old school, but open to new ideas as long as they make sense to him. His wife is Laura Mae. Oh, and Mike, actually.”

That last one surprised me.

“Will the council be okay with that?” I asked.

“They don’t have a say in the matter,” Evan said with a shrug. “But we all recognize that it won’t be without controversy. Mike, however, has been great as a deputy. And she’s a walking example of how my ideas improve our community. My tenure will already be filled with controversy: a surrogate as Mother with three more surrogates’ husbands in the council. We’ve never seen that before.”

“Is that intentional?”

Evan smiled. “A bit. The Willows is hesitant towards change. But I recognize how important it is in order to stay current. Relevant. Keep strong. If we never change, never adapt, we’re doomed to be left behind. And there was too much work done building the Willows for me to allow that.”

“How lucky for me,” I said, giving Evan a quick kiss. “I get to be married to a revolutionary. Does that mean Declan is the last one?”

Evan’s smile fell to a frown at that. “No. Absolutely not.”

I hesitated. I hadn’t really expected that. Then again, Declan and Evan didn’t seem particularly close.

“You two don’t get along,” I said. Because it wasn’t a question.

“Declan is _too_ old-school,” Evan said, his voice gruff. “Dangerously so. I would never challenge how he decides to handle his wife, but I don’t agree with it. And I will not have him challenging me on the council.”

I nodded. “So you’re still uncertain on the last one?”

“A bit. I’ve been considering Rueben lately. He’s been challenging me a little, but in a good way. Never disrespectfully. He does agree with a lot of my views, but does criticize the effectiveness of it in practice. I appreciate his perspective. His only issue is getting his wife pregnant. He does that, he’s number six.”

Reuben. Why did that name sound familiar? “Who’s his wife?”

“Reuben. I believe he’s married to Jackie.”

I frowned.

Fuck.

~*~

Despite being in training, I was allowed to deliver the used napkins to the laundry building, and pick up the previously washed ones. I say allowed, but it was obvious that none of the midwives really enjoyed that job. It had exclusively been Dreama’s before I arrived, and now it was my daily duty. Meaning I wouldn’t get relieved until a newcomer came in.

And I was sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

The laundry building wasn’t far from the birthing center. It was behind the salon. Occasionally, I walked through the salon to say hi to Kian and Laura Mae. But it was locked at the moment, meaning neither of them were in.

Sighing, I turned, walking between the salon and the long building next to it. It was easier doing that than walking down to the end of the row of buildings, rounding them, and then circling back until I got to the front of the laundry building. Not that I was in a hurry to get back to the center, but I was in a hurry to get rid of the dirty pads.

“What do you mean you can’t get any lemons?”

I paused, inching to the edge of the wall instead of continuing my normal pace. That had been a very angry whisper. And a whisper was a curious thing in the Willows: it meant someone didn’t want to be heard. Meaning they would stop talking if I had kept on course just then.

I peaked around the corner, seeing Jackie talking to a girl in an apron. I recognized the girl as one of the ones always hanging out with Jackie. And that apron was definitely the uniform of the people working in the kitchen. Interesting.

“Thanks to that stupid escape attempt, Mrs. Lynn has to count everything used. So that we can limit our deliveries,” the girl said, shaking her head angrily. “I can sneak out the sponge and some honey, but even one missing lemon is going to look like a conspiracy to get the truck back here so someone can try to sneak off in it again.”

Jackie sighed angrily, turning to the side where I saw she was holding a small, beige-colored sponge and a sample container of honey. I watched her, wondering what Jackie would need those things for. And what was the lemon for?

“I don’t know if I can keep this up,” Jackie mumbled angrily. “Even _he’s_ getting suspicious now.”

“Maybe you should stop holding out,” the girl suggested with a shrug. “Even if the council agrees to annul your marriage, it’s not like you can marry—”

“Shut up, Catrina,” Jackie snapped. “It’s not even _about_ him anymore. I just don’t want to get pregnant right now.”

“I don’t get it. You might as well at this point. What are you holding out for? Reuben is a pretty great guy.”

“I just don’t want—”

Catrina gasped, cutting Jackie off. I came around the corner, watching as Jackie turned, saw me, and then froze in fear.

“Afternoon, ladies,” I said pleasantly, as if I hadn’t heard their earlier conspiring. “What are you two doing over here?”

“I was dropping off some rags and aprons to the laundry,” Catrina said immediately, her eyes darting away.

Guilty as fuck.

I turned to Jackie expecting an explanation.

“I just ran into Catrina and we started talking,” she mumbled, shrugging.

“Really?” I asked, looking around. “What were you doing back here to begin with?”

Jackie shrugged again. “Just walking.”

“Hmm. That sounds like a lie. Which is odd. What could you be lying for?”

“No one is lying,” Jackie snapped, turning to face me properly. Her cool eyes bore into me with so much hatred that I almost took a step back. “You’re not in charge of anyone here. You know that, right? Until Evan becomes Father, you are at the same level as all of us. Especially a barren wife.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Okay, this was taking a turn I wasn’t expecting.

“What makes you think I’m infertile?” I asked innocently.

“Because everyone knows you haven’t had a single period since you got here,” Jackie sneered. “And I work with pregnant women all day every day. I can sniff it better than most. If you were almost three months pregnant, you’d have at least _a_ symptom. A change in personality due your hormones, odd food cravings, or smelling anything and everything.

“But there’s been none of that with you. I’m sure you’re trying to get your power trips in before you’re taken to the doctor’s and Evan learns the truth, but I’m not falling for it.”

“Oh my god,” I said, everything clicking. “That’s why you’re still holding out? You think Evan will divorce me if he finds out I’m infertile and marry you?”

I laughed, rather cruelly, at that. Jackie frowned, exchanging glances with Catrina. It was hilarious though. What a silly, diabolical scheme. Did Jackie think it would work out like that? Probably. He’d officially been named heir apparent; his second also declared. Evan couldn’t afford to not be married.

Meanwhile, if Jackie could play off her fertility issues on her husband, that would leave Jackie and Evan both with useless partners. Why wouldn’t it seem like fate, then, for Evan to leave me and take Jackie as his wife instead? A fruitful wife?

Too bad for Jackie, I wasn’t infertile.

“Catrina,” I said, once I finished laughing and straightening up. I kept my eyes on Jackie as I spoke. “Leave.”

I saw Catrina jump from the side of my eye. She looked at Jackie, as if unsure to do.

“Don’t go anywhere, Catrina,” Jackie challenged, matching my gaze.

I raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll just let Mrs. Lynn know you’ve been stealing sponges and honey and lemons from the kitchen. I’m sure no one will put together what someone will want with all that.”

“Jackie, I’ll see you later,” Catrina said, moving and leaving.

I watched Jackie until I couldn’t hear Catrina’s footsteps anymore.

“The biggest hole in your plan,” I told her, “is that I’m plenty fertile. Want to know how many abortions I had to have in Faust City?”

“You’re despicable,” Jackie hissed.

“It was actually only once; the second time I miscarried before I got the chance.”

“Disgusting.”

“I know. It’s disgusting how fertile I am. The second time, I was on the pill, so I didn’t make the guy wear a condom. Literally knocked me up that night. I swear I could feel my egg getting fertilized inside me.”

“Even if I did believe any of that,” Jackie said, her glare intensifying, “I’m not spending the rest of my life watching you become Mother while I’m—”

“Outside?” I finished. I watched her, feeling a bit sorry for her.

If Mrs. Ruthanne was her mother, that meant Jackie grew up knowing what power being Mother’s best friend meant. It meant that she knew just how powerful Mother was. It meant she grew up believing that to be her birthright. Even if she were cast out of _that_ position, being outside of the inner circle would be hell for her.

It was hard to not want to throw the poor puppy a bone.

“I’m impressed,” I said, shrugging. “I assumed you wouldn’t catch the lie. The second part was the truth though; I did get pregnant once but lost it really early on. Never got an abortion though.”

“The Lord will correct your transgression,” Jackie muttered.

“What? Lying to you? Or miscarrying? Or is being alive, being here, what I should be apologizing for, Jackie?”

“You’re bound for hell anyway,” Jackie said, starting to turn to leave.

“Will the Lord punish you for your transgression against your husband?”

Jackie snapped back at attention. I smirked.

“Will the congregation forgive you?” I continued. “I’d hate to be the one to speak that truth, Jackie.”

“There it goes,” she said, her own lips curling in a smirk to match my own. “I was waiting for you to threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you,” I said, shrugging. “I actually thought maybe we could share war stories. Since you told me yours, I could tell you mine.”

Jackie looked confused at that. “What?”

“Our contraceptive secrets,” I said, nodding at the items in her hand. “In other words, why I’m not pregnant yet.”

Jackie blinked at me for a full minute before talking again.

“Why the fuck would you tell me that? I would rat you out in an instant.”

“I doubt it. You tell mine, I’ll tell yours.”

“My husband already knows, so it doesn’t matter,” Jackie spilled.

I smiled. Fucking liar.

“He doesn’t know you’re still doing it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I recently came across some information that your current husband is being considered for Evan’s council,” I said. “But the major thing holding him back is his inability to knock you up.”

The way Jackie’s eyes widened, ever so slightly, told me she did not know that. Good.

“That means,” I continued, “that at some point, he told you to stop. But you kept going. So even if he knew before, he doesn’t know now.”

I stepped closer to Jackie. For her part, she didn’t move. Brave puppy.

“You can talk as much shit as you like, Jackie,” I told her, “but I _am_ a scientist for a reason. It’s quite easy for me to make those connections. You’d be wise to remember that.

“You’d also be wise to take what I’m offering you. Consider it a peace offering. I tell you mine since I now know yours.”

“And again,” Jackie said through clenched teeth, “why would you tell me that?”

“Because if you’re smart and stop trying to hold off the inevitable,” I continued, “then your husband will be in Evan’s council. Meaning _you_ will be in _my_ inner circle. Meaning we’d need to be friends; I’d rather we be friends, Jackie. So how about it? Would you like to be my friend?”

Jackie took a deep breath in closing her eyes. And when she opened them, she let it out. And then she nodded.

“Yes, Andres,” she said, very pleasantly. “I would like very much for us to be friends.”

“Wonderful,” I said, smiling as I closed the distance between us. “I’m so happy to hear that. I have an IUD.”

She blinked at me, surprised. “And they don’t know?”

“I lied during intake and said I was on the pill.”

“They’re going to find out. At least when you go to get your number.”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell Evan beforehand. For now, though, it gives me time.”

Jackie nodded, understanding.

“How devious,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “May the Lord forgive our insolence.”

“And may He bless our new friendship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haa! That was so fun rereading that confrontation at the end back! Jackie and Andres are so fun to write together! Did you guys enjoy that? Please tell me you enjoyed that! Lol. 
> 
> I sometimes worry I wrap things up quicker than I need to. Like, we just find out that Jackie could end up in Andres' inner circle and the same chapter, THAT happens. Lol. But since I did ZERO formal planning with this story (HELP. ME.), I worry about starting a point and not addressing it/wrapping it up later. Ah well. 
> 
> I'll call this a temporary cease fire. We'll see how well Jackie and Andres continue to get along lol. 
> 
> Ahhh. This week is really almost over. It flew by so fast. It threw me off with the week starting on a Tuesday. It was weird to remember that today isn't Wednesday. You guys almost got forgotten. Aren't you lucky? 
> 
> I had so much fun reading this chapter. I really hope you guys did too. I think as writers, when thinking about what to write, you have to think "what would I want to read?" That's what got me into writing: wanting to read stories with characters like me in a way that *I* would enjoy them. I can always tell when I'm enjoying writing a story because of scenes like this. God, this was so fun! 
> 
> Please tell me this was fun for you too so I don't feel like a stupid loser laughing at my own jokes by myself lol. Validate me please! 
> 
> Reminder, weekly updates are now on Thursdays. Hope you enjoy the new schedule change. Hopefully I don't forget to upload. If I do, just yell at me. 
> 
> See you all next week. Leave me goodies (comments)! They motivate me!


	44. Chapter 44

“You don’t have to be here,” I said, sitting in the car.

There were reporters here again. So many of them. I watched the guard standing by the car, blocking anyone from getting too close and waiting for me to come out of the car.

“I wasn’t going to miss this,” Lyle said, grabbing my hand. He looked sharp in his suit and tie. Even his piercings were out. “Especially since your parents couldn’t be here.”

They had wanted to come, but I told them not to. Again and again and again. And then reminded them they were already taking off work to help me move next week. I could manage being a big boy for one day.

Still, I was happy Lyle was here. He’d been here all week, staying at my parents’ house, who were insanely understanding. I managed to not take off from work, but it was tense there after the attack. It was as if everyone was expecting it again. With all of that on top of Evan’s calls, Lyle had been my rock.

I expressed concern to my therapist about leaning on him too much, but David had actually been happy to hear about all the work I’d been doing in moving on. Dating, fucking, volunteering: he told me that it was okay to lean on Lyle when I needed to. That that was what partners did.

So I let Lyle stay, and I let him accompany me to this.

“Do you want to go now?” Lyle asked, looking over my shoulder at the crowd.

“We should,” I said, nodding. “It’s like ripping off a bandaid. Best to just get it over with.”

Lyle nodded, kissing me briefly before reaching over me to open the door. As usual, I was bombarded with yelling and questions as I stepped out. The guard did a good job of protecting me while I turned to help Lyle out of the car. We were both not wearing sunglasses: Jenn had advised that now was the time to show emotion. I was losing in the court of public opinion; now was the time to try to win a few battles.

“This is insane,” Lyle muttered, wrapping an arm around my waist as we followed the guard up the walkway. “It’s scarier on this side of the cameras.”

I sighed, nodding. “I hate this part. All the screaming. I can barely think.”

“I can fix that,” Lyle said.

I looked up at him, confused, and then wasn’t when he leaned down to kiss me. Sure enough, all the noise faded away. All I could hear was my own heart pounding, and the warm excitement I felt whenever Lyle kissed me. When he broke apart, I felt much calmer.

“Better?” he asked.

I smiled. “Much. Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me back up. The security guard had been patient enough to wait for us.

Once inside, the noise continued. There were more reporters inside, trying to stick close. Ask questions. We pushed to the elevators, going the floor the security guard directed us to. We would be going into an actual courtroom now; not just a mediation room.

Jenn was waiting for me on the second floor, her phone in hand and a pleasant smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, walking over to me. “How you feeling?”

“Ready for this to be over,” I admitted.

She nodded. “I’ll just ask questions about your experience there, like we practiced. I know it’ll be a lot, but we gotta make it known that it was horrible there and you _wanted_ to leave. Just answer truthfully, and we can get you in and out within half an hour or so. Okay?”

I nodded. She walked me to an empty room, and told me that Lyle was allowed to stay. I was testifying today, along with Serenity. She likely was already in there, giving her tale. Jacob had testified the day before, so he wouldn’t miss the graduation rehearsal this afternoon.

Lyle kept my mind busy, talking about how his boss was basically begging him to put in his two weeks since he just knew Lyle was going to end up moving to Faust City. We then started talking about just when Lyle should move. He had originally wanted to hold off until he found a job, but with Evan calling me, we both agreed that Lyle should move in over the summer. Enough time to give his sister notice, and for me to get the house ready.

“I’m not going to be a kept pet,” Lyle said, rolling his eyes playfully. “I love you, but I don’t want you supporting me.”

“I don’t know why not,” I told him, playing with one of the rings on his hand. “You’re hot enough to not use your brain.”

“You just want to make me dumb so I won’t win a Nobel prize before you.”

“See? You say cute things like that; how can anyone take you seriously?”

“I’m not fucking you tonight if you keep that up.”

There was a knock on the door: another security guard. They were calling for me. Lyle followed me outside, kissing me before we split. Lyle would go watch in the crowd while I headed for the stand. When the security guard opened the door, I walked into the witness box, the judges bench next to me. The courthouse was filled, mostly with reporters. I did notice a small group of people in white on the opposite side, behind where Evan, Declan, and Mike sat with their lawyer. On the other side was my lawyer, and, surprisingly, Anya.

Anya gave me a sweet smile as I sat down. I glanced at the judges, five of them who would rule on this case. My heart started to race. The back door opened, Lyle walking in and quickly finding a place near the front. I sighed when I saw him, feeling calmer.

Okay. I could do this.

“Good morning, Andres,” Jenn said, approaching. “Please state your name for the court.”

“Andres de la Vega,” I said, my voice picking up on the mic in front of me.

“Thank you, Andres. And thank you for being here. We want to ask some questions about your experience in the Willows. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, nodding. I tried hard not to look over at Evan.

“Excellent. Okay, so let’s start at the beginning.”

Jenn walked me through telling everything: how Evan and the others found us, killing Gus and Bev. Their lawyer stopping to emphasize that we had no idea which ones killed them: we couldn’t blame it on the plaintiffs. From there, we walked through the forced marriages, the wedding night rapes, and our lives afterwards. I recounted our daily lives, a lot more rapes, and our escape. By the end, my throat was dry.

I drank from the water bottle sitting next to the mic as Jenn sat down, satisfied with my testimony. That hadn’t been too bad.

But then the Willows’ lawyer stood up, and I watched him. Now the hard part.

“Andres,” he purred, pronouncing my name exactly like a _gringo_ would. “Thank you for that riveting tale. I just had a few questions I needed clarified. Whenever Evan, your husband, gave you an order or directive, did you ever say no?”

I blinked at him. “I did when we first met. He told me that would be the last time I would say that.”

“I see. And was it?”

“For the most part,” I admitted.

“So he gave you an order and you submitted to it willingly?”

“He threatened me.”

“Oh, he had a gun pointed to your head?”

“He did have a gun, actually.”

“Did he have it pointed at you every time he gave you an order?”

“Objection, your honors,” Anya said, refraining from rolling her eyes. “Semantics. It’s obvious that our client felt threatened enough to obey the plaintiffs.”

The five judges spoke amongst each other before the one in the middle nodded.

“Sustained,” she said, giving Evan’s lawyer and frown. “Move along, councilor.”

“Did my client, your husband,” the lawyer continued, not missing a beat, “ever outright threaten you with violence if you ever disobeyed him?”

How was that moving on?

“Not at first,” I admitted. “He did admit to me later that he would have killed me had I fought him that day.”

“Objection,” the lawyer said, frowning at the judges. “It was a simple yes-or-no question.”

“ _You_ asked the question!” Anya said, throwing up her hands.

“Agreed,” a judge on the end said, looking bored. “Don’t ask questions if you’re not going to like the answer to them.”

The lawyer walked over to his desk, rummaging through some papers and returning. He held up the piece of paper to the judges before laying it down in front of me. It was a picture of Shiloh. An identity photo, it looked like. He was smiling straight into the camera, his afro neat.

“Can you identify this person?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Yes. From the Willows. Shiloh Hill.”

“And what was your relation to Shiloh?”

That was sort of hard to explain. I glanced up at Jenn and Anya before answering.

“The quick answer would be that he was my friend,” I said.

“And the long answer?”

I frowned. “Evan is next in line to become the leadership at the Willows. As such, he requires a second-in-command of sorts. In case something ever happens to him. Shiloh is the wife of Evan’s second.”

“Hmm,” the lawyer hummed, seeming satisfied with that. “You two must have been close then.”

I shrugged again. “We spent a lot of time with each other.”

“Is it safe to say he knew you well?”

“We weren’t insanely close,” I all but snapped. “But out of everyone there, I guess I was closest to Shiloh.”

“When Shiloh testified earlier,” the lawyer said, returning back to his desk, “he said that you were very quick to settle into your role. He said,” he pulled out another paper, “that you, and I quote, ‘were very committed to adapting to the ways of the Willows worked as quickly as possible.’ And that you were ‘eager to learn’ and ‘satisfied’ by your position.”

I blinked at the lawyer. “I adapted to minimize any harm.”

The lawyer returned with more pictures. Zeke. Kian. Laura Mae. Even Jackie.

“We’ve heard testimony from all of these witnesses stating that you thrived in your role as Evan’s wife. Reveled in it, in fact.”

“Objection,” Anya said, sounding bored. “Is there a question?”

“The question is whether Andres wants us all to believe they were lying.”

“I was _faking_ it,” I did snap at that, my annoyance bleeding into my voice. “I could either be miserable and get beaten every day, or learn how to live in peace with my captors. Are we victim-blaming here? I didn’t fight hard enough for you?”

“Simply answer the question, Andres,” the lawyer sneered. “Are you saying that all the testimonies we’ve heard from people who knew you in the Willows were lies?”

“Yes. They were.”

The lawyer nodded, as if satisfied. “So everyone else is a liar but you. That’s the stance you’re taking.”

“Objection!” Anya said, rolling her eyes. “Testifying for the defendant.”

“I’m simply trying to establish that the defendant’s current stance of despising the Willows is sudden and suspicious,” the lawyer said to the judges. “He was happy at the Willows, and was brainwashed to conspiring with the other defendants.”

I felt my breath leave me as Jenn said something to that and the judges responded. I couldn’t hear them. I looked over at Evan, met his eyes because of course he was watching me. I was sure that Declan and Mike weren’t going to be happy about this, but it suddenly clicked what they were doing.

Jacob had fought almost his entire time at the Willows. Serenity had been passive, not making any real friends or allies there. But I didn’t fight, nor did I just sit there and let everything happen to me. I became active. I embraced my role as Evan’s wife.

If the Willows vied to have all three of us forced back, they’d lose. Together, we were a story of kidnapped brides forced into a cult. But if they separated me from the other two, if they decided I was the only one who enjoyed being at the Willows, they could spin a new narrative. One where I was happy and convinced by the other two that my happiness was a lie.

If they gave up trying to get Jacob and Serenity back, they had a better chance of getting me.

“Andres,” the lawyer was saying, getting my attention again. “What was your job on the compound?”

“A—” I glanced at Evan again, his hazel eyes daring me to fight. I felt oddly helpless: I didn’t want to fight. “I was a midwife.”

“You’re a doctor here, correct?”

“Technically, yes,” I said, looking down at my water bottle. “I got my license to practice, but I ended up going into research. I can still practice, but I don’t.”

“Still, it must have been nice to be able to use that education in the Willows.”

I shrugged. He hadn’t asked a question. And I was done responding to his nonquestions.

“Out of the three of you—the defendants—you were the only one not pregnant when you arrived back here in Faust City. Why was that?”

“I had an IUD for the majority of my time there,” I admitted.

“Really? Evan was okay with that?”

“Evan didn’t know.”

“I see. And why did you not tell him you had one?”

I really didn’t want to say this. I looked at Jenn and Anya who seemed confused by this line of questioning. They didn’t really have a reason to object. It obviously meant something.

“I just needed some time, I felt,” I finally answered.

“Time for what?”

“To adjust.”

“You decided that at the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“So from the beginning, you were aware of what was going to be expected of you. And you were so aware of it that you lied about not being on birth control so you could have time to adjust to life at the Willows. And after having that time, you had every intention of submitting to this requirement. In other words, submit to bearing Evan’s children. Is that an accurate interpretation?”

“I didn’t lie about _being_ on birth control,” I said, not sure why I felt the correction was necessary. “I lied about what type I was on. I told them I was on the pill.”

“But everything else I said was accurate?”

I let out a small breath. “Yes.”

The lawyer nodded, sounding smug. “I have no further questions your honors.”

Anya was up in an instant, all but stomping over to me.

“Eventually the Willows would have found out the truth about the birth control you were on,” she started, shooting at glare at the lawyer. “But you lied anyway. Delaying the inevitable was rather silly, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” I said tentatively. Where was she going with this?

“So you lied in the beginning because you needed time. Was that really the reason, or the reason you told your ex-husband so many times that you’re not even sure anymore?”

I blinked. “I don’t know.”

Anya nodded, seeming to consider.

“Let’s go back to that first day then,” Anya said, leaning her back against the railing next to my water. “You’d been through a very traumatic event where you’d been sexually assaulted after witnessing the murders of your mentors. When you started interacting with Evan, what were you thinking?”

“That I didn’t want him to kill me.” I remembered how small the car had felt with just me and Evan in the back seat, his gun in between his legs as a silent threat.

“Why do you think he didn’t kill you and others so quickly?”

“Objection!” the lawyer spat. “Speculation.”

“It’s to show my client’s state of mind during these events,” Anya said, not missing a beat. “His perception shaped his reality.”

“Overruled,” the judge in the middle said, nodding. “We’ll allow it.”

“Why do you think, Andres, they didn’t kill you three immediately?”

I swallowed. “It was a raid. The goal was to see if there was anyone worth taking back to the Willows. They killed Gus because he had nothing to offer. They hesitated with Bev until they knew whether or not she would be able to have children. When they opened the back door, I told them what Jacob and I were. So they would know they could use us.”

“So they wouldn’t kill you.”

“Right.”

Anya nodded, pushing herself straight and walking back to the table to sit on the corner.

“You recognized all that was happening immediately?”

“I—” I thought about it. “I didn’t know about the Willows. But I knew enough about the Nation to know that they would hesitate to kill fertile surrogates and young women. I thought they’d take me and Jacob to go through their surrogacy program, but at least we be alive to figure something out.”

“So when you got to the Willows, why did you lie about being on birth control? If that’s what they wanted from you?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t really think about it too much. They asked and I kind of panicked. I didn’t know what they would have done if they knew I had the IUD, but I knew they’d get it out of me immediately.”

“And you wanted to keep it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to have his babies.”

“Why not?”

I shook my head, blinking away tears.

“Because I’m not an idiot. I’m not heartless. I knew if I had his baby, I would stop fighting.”

“But the plaintiffs claimed you never fought. Fought how?”

“Jacob was freaking out and Serenity was petrified. I couldn’t afford to fight dramatically the way Jacob did. It’s not to say I didn’t want to: it just wasn’t smart. If we were going to survive, I knew we had to be smart. But I—” I looked back at Evan. Met his eyes. Met the cool anger I could feel radiate from them and matched it with the fire of my own anger. “But Evan took away my magic. He took away the one way I could have really fought back. Not having his babies and knowing that I wouldn’t until I got caught was the only way I had to fight him.”

Anya smiled, satisfied. “So it’s inaccurate to say you never fought: just that you chose different battles?”

I nodded, turning from Evan and looking back at her. My voice sounded stronger when I answered.

“Yes. I fought where I could.” Then, for good measure, I added, “Once I got my powers back, I was the one who started planning our escape. As soon as I had the ability to fight, I started to. And it’s why I’m fighting now.”

Anya looked very satisfied with that.

“No further questions, your honors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. Do you hate this chapter? Because I hate this chapter. 
> 
> Writing it felt meh. I hated it so much that I never went back to edit it before today, so if it feels weird, that's why. Reading it back, I wish I rewrote it. There are some good bits, but meh. 
> 
> Ahh, that last bit of questioning on Anya's part was very leading. Evan's lawyer should have objected but he didn't. That's on him. 
> 
> I was a juror on a murder trial years ago. It was surprisingly boring lol. But I remember I took it all in because I knew I could use it to write scenes like this more accurately. The objections are not at all the dramatic ones you see in certain video games (lol) or Law and Order. Like, when the lawyer objects, the judge will stop and then the lawyer will say like one thing. A lot of times, the judge would pull both lawyers up and they would talk away from the mics. I guess turn them off? But then a white noise would play over the speakers so we couldn't hear them. Then when they went back, the judge would state what the objection was and whether or not it was overruled or sustained. He didn't do that all the time, but enough times. 
> 
> In fact, a lot of the objections always seemed to surprise the other lawyer. So it was never the dramatic back and forth like what I wrote. Like, It'd be like "objection!" and then the other lawyer is looking at them like "huh?" and then the lawyer will be like, "Um, well, this is a problem because of x," and then the other lawyer is looking at the judge like "huh?" and then the judge is like "ehhhh, let's talk about this." Lol. Again, not all the time. Actually, more often than not, when the other lawyer objects, the one asking questions will just strike it and then move along. 
> 
> You absolutely NEVER see the crazy line of questioning where the judge has to be like "cease this line of questioning or I'll hold you in contempt!" Lol. Everyone is so polite in court. 
> 
> Either way, I say all that to say I know exactly how dramatic I made this scene because of that, and I guess that's the benefit. I think this chapter would be even worse if I never sat on a jury and saw how this stuff works. It was an experience. 10/10 would not recommend though lol. 
> 
> The news outlets are going to go crazy running the story about Andres kissing a himbo-looking guy in front of the courthouse lol. 
> 
> Anything revealed here that shocked y'all? I had a shit day, so please be kind and leave me comments to make me feel better. 
> 
> The next chapter will be fun, I think. Oh! And the one after that will be fun too. I'm just putting off rereading it because, well, if you guys pay attention, there are certain type of scenes that I struggle to reread because I get embarrassed lol. So the next couple of chapters will be fun and something to look forward to. 
> 
> See you all next week. Leave comments! lol


	45. Chapter 45

“ _Dios mio_ ,” Grisella said, following me into the kitchen. “ _The_ Al Faust?”

“Is she as tall as she looks on tv?” Tatiana asked, dropping a box labeled _fragile_ on the floor. I winced when I heard the pots and pans in it bang against each other. She looked at me apologetically. “ _Mi culpa_.”

“You’d like her,” I said, leaning against a counter. “Big stud vibes.”

Tatiana smiled, sliding next to me.

“Did she have her hair braided back, or was it out?”

I laughed. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. I heard a rumor that when Al Faust is walking around with her hair braided, it’s because she’s planning to get into a fight.”

Interesting. “It was cornrowed.”

Tatiana squealed like she was still a teenager. “God, she is so fucking _hot_!”

“How about saying that when your husband isn’t two feet away?” Jorge said, walking in with one of the ends of my couch.

“Nope. Al is my one, so you don’t get to complain.”

“Your _one_?” I asked, already preparing to regret it.

“ _Si_. We both have a pact that if our top celebrity crushes were willing to get with us, we will leave the other for ‘em. And they’re the only people aside from each other that we’re allowed to gush over.”

“And you chose Al Faust?” my mother asked, ducking under the couch with bags of food.

“Of course. And he picked Janet Johnson.”

“The politician from Quebec?” my mom asked as Grisella shook her head at her daughter and her husband shenanigans.

“Her ass looks good in those pencil skirts,” Jorge said, gruffly. He looked at me. “Andres, where is this going?”

I raised in eyebrow at him. “In the living room.”

“Andres, please,” Dante said from the other end, though I couldn’t see him. “You know Jorge doesn’t carry his weight.”

“Fuck you! I got this.”

“Grab the popcorn,” Tatiana said, smiling. “This is funny.”

“Until they drop and break my new couch,” I said, deciding to move and show them the living room.

With court done and over with, I was free to move without any worries about the future. I stayed around for Serenity’s testimony. Turned out she got delayed and had to go after me. She had, thankfully cosigned a lot of what I had already stated. Her story was rough to hear: Mike was a lot more abusive than I would have known. Behind closed doors, there was a lot of emotional abuse, beatings, and really rough sex.

Afterwards, she let me take her out to lunch, and I got to say goodbye. She was flying out to London on Monday, before she was too far along for any airline to deny her on a plane. From there, she’d meet her sister and take a train to Oxford. It was weird knowing I’d never seen her again, but she seemed happy for the change of scenery.

And even I had to admit that knowing I wouldn’t have to see her in all this court mess made it feel like this was all finally coming to an end. Soon I would be free. And in the moment, I was moving into my house. Which, after court the day before, I’d spent the entire afternoon cleansing it with my mother, as well as putting protection charms over it. I felt a lot safer after that, and I had forgotten about the phone calls from Evan that I’d gotten the last time I was in the house.

It actually was starting to feel like home.

“Against this wall, right?” Dante nodded to the back wall. “Across from the fireplace?”

“Yup,” I said, moving so my dad and cousin, Clyde, could bring in the loveseat. “Dad, put that over on that wall.”

“Oh, you have a fireplace?” Clyde said, looking around more than he was working.

He’d been doing that all day, and his mother, my aunt Yvette, had been yelling at him for it. I didn’t mind: Clyde was the youngest of all the kids in our generation, graduating from high school this month. He was big and stocky, so he looked older than he was, until he opened his mouth and said something childish.

“You could roast marshmallows there! Make smores!”

Like that.

I smiled, leaving the room to meet my aunts Yvette and Chrissy, my father’s sisters, at the door with more food.

“It’s a cute starter home,” Yvette was saying loudly, finding the kitchen easy. “Oh, hi ladies! Y’all brought food too!”

“Just to get him started,” Grisella said, smiling and switching to English now that my father’s side of the family was in the house. “Some spices, and some meats for him to store in the freezer.”

“You mean some meats to grill,” I said, rolling my eyes as I actually looked through some of the bags. “I’m moving today; not having a cookout.”

“We can do both,” Jorge said, coming back from the living room and smiling at us while the other men went back outside to the moving truck. “The grill is in my truck. Just set that bad boy up and—”

“I didn’t buy a grill,” I said, looking around. “Who bought a grill?”

Tatiana sighed, giving Jorge a frown. “Well, it was _supposed_ to be a surprise. But that’s from us.”

“Thank you,” I said, Dante calling for Jorge. “But you didn’t have to. Not yet at least; I’m sure we’ll have a few months before my housewarming party.”

“I know, but it’s such a good model and it was on sale and if it sat in the house, Jorge would claim it for himself,” Tatiana said, hugging me. “Besides, you and Auntie Maya really helped us out when we moved because _someone_ was useless.”

“I threw my back out!” Jorge called from the hall as he and my father brought in a large dresser.

My father knew which room was the master, so he was able to guide them down the hall. I listened closely for any bangs—Jorge was cleaning my walls if he scuffed them—before turning back to the conversation. My mother, aunts, and Tatiana were emptying out the bags. Some if it was being put away in the freezer or cabinets while a huge chunk of it was spread out on the counters. Chrissy was seasoning up ribs, steaks, and veggie burgers while Grisella and Yvette compared the sides they brought: rice and beans, potato salad, mac and cheese, and collards. Tatiana was making some veggie kabobs to go on the grill later.

“Whoa!” I said, looking at all of the food. “I’m serious. We’re not doing a cookout today.”

All the women paused in their conversations, looking at me incredulously. Then, as though I hadn’t spoken, they went back to what they were doing. I let out a sigh, not sure why I thought I had a say in that. Guess it was worth a try.

I went outside, watching Dante and Clyde sit on the edge of the truck with their portable game consoles out, comparing pocket monsters from a popular game. I yelled at them—Dante was older than me and should have known better—and the two of them jumped back into action just as a car pulled up on the sidewalk. I smiled as I watched Lyle get out of the rideshare, pulling out his small carrier bag that he had flown in with the other day.

Lyle would be flying back home the next day, so I had insisted he spend the night. I emphasized the money he’d save with one less night in a hotel, but really it was because I wanted to christen the house with him. I didn’t care how tired we would be once night hit: he was going to fuck me in the kitchen, in front of the fireplace, in the master bathroom, and in my bed.

“Hi,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist while he kissed me. “I’m not too late to help with the big stuff, am I?”

“Nope,” I said, grabbing his bag and walking him to the door. Dante and Clyde were struggling on how to hold the box spring to my bed. “But come meet my aunts first.”

“Oh wow, meeting the family?” Lyle asked, sounding only a little nervous.

“It’s not even close to all of them,” I said, shrugging. “My cousins Devonne and Ricky, with their husbands, went to go get the set for the guest room and the patio. They should be here before Jorge starts grilling—”

“Grilling?”

“Yeah, they do this every time someone moves. And my aunt Clara should be here with my cousins a little later. And once things settle and the food is cooking, someone will go pick up my grandmas. Oh, and I’m sure my cousins Reena and Meena—they’re twins. I hate it too but I didn’t name them—they were the babies in the family before Clyde—they’ll hopefully bring beer and weed after my grandmothers leave.”

The kitchen was a flurry with activity. Someone had gone through the boxes, looking for bowls, grilling utensils, and saran wrap. Grisella was telling Tatiana to go to the store to get paper plates so they wouldn’t make too much of a mess, which Tatiana was already pushing off on one of the men. My mother was on the phone with her other sister, Lissa, who was apparently still at home making a pound cake to bring over—because _that_ was important right now. And my father was talking to his sisters about what to season the meats with, Jorge in the way telling them it wouldn’t matter after he got through with them.

“Oh wow,” Lyle said. “And this isn’t even half of everyone?”

“Not even close,” I said smiling. “You come from a big family, right?”

“I mean, my immediate family. But only my mother has an older brother, and he only has one kid. Holidays aren’t that packed.”

I hummed, before clapping my hands to get everyone’s attention.

“ _Todos_! Say ‘hi’ to my boyfriend, Lyle.”

Lyle didn’t stand a chance. My family swarmed on him in seconds, Jorge shaking his hand while Tatiana eyed him up and down before declaring him physically acceptable. Yvette and Grisella grilled him over his job, his piercings, and his odd tendency to fly in just to see me at the drop of a hat. The latter they had both heard all about from my mother. Dante came down at one point, wondering where all the help was, and then claimed Lyle as his moving partner; Clyde was too much of a slacker for him to work with. And Chrissy asked if Lyle had eaten yet, then went into whether he had any allergies or food restrictions, because his options would be small if he were vegan, but Meena was a vegan and she would have her bring something over if he needed it.

In an instant Lyle was now a part of the family. He accept Jorge’s offer to show him how to grill—after rightfully assuming that a grill would be wasted on me because I would never use it—and he tried to humble brag about how much he lifted in the gym. And when he admitted to Tatiana’s questions that he would be moving in before the end of the summer—me ignoring the surprised looks my parents were throwing at me—Tatiana squealed with excitement.

And when I proclaimed that it was time for the men to get back to work, Jorge joking about how that conveniently didn’t not include me, Lyle even kissed me briefly before running outside. Then it was my turn to answer all the questions on how Lyle and I met, how we hooked up, and whether it was too soon for him to move in. Tatiana was the only one on my side with that last point, noting that all I had to do was kick Lyle out if we ever broke up.

Not that I saw that ever happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.....lo siento everyone lol. 
> 
> I know, I know. I'm mad late. I'm sorry. I decided to cook last night and it took longer than I expected. And even today, I have no good excuse for what took so long. I even emailed the story to myself at work so I could upload it there, but something in me HATES updating while at work. Especially since I'm in my own little corner, I have no idea when someone is rolling up on me. Ahhhh. 
> 
> But it's here! A much lighter, and fun, chapter. I really wanted to get that feel of a very loving and fun extended family. Maya, Andres' mother, talks to his paternal aunts all the time. And the cousins are all always hanging out. 
> 
> I don't know if I said this before, but I HATE when siblings/twins have rhyming names or they all start with the same letter. ESPECIALLY twins. I once worked at a daycare center where I had a set of twins: Dwayne and Dwoyne. I was so mad: Dwoyne ain't even a real name! The fuck! But even my real name isn't a "real" (read, anglosaxon) name, so I ain't got room to talk lol. For some reason, because I hate it, I always do that in stories. Idk why. I just added that bit from Andres about how he hates it for a reason lol. 
> 
> My one aunt has four kids and all their names start with an A. Ahhh! Similar to the Faust family! That wasn't intentional. I always had Al's name established waaaaaaay before this story came to fruition (lol) and when I wrote Anya, I didn't intend for her to be Al's sister. That was something I threw in later, and then after that, I just decided to make it a family quirk. It's kinda fun having to come up with a truckload of A names. My aunt named her youngest daughter the same name as my mother, and I remember hearing my mother tell someone once that it was because her sister "ran out of A names" by that point, so she named her after her (my mom). But there are a TON of A names for girls. She (my aunt) didn't have to use my mother's name if she didn't want to. 
> 
> My mother is so negative lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I had fun writing this, and rereading it. I've reread it like 10 times! Lol. It's nice because I always had it in my head that Andres' extended family was very much like THIS, but I never had a chance to show that. Now that Clyde is officially a high school graduate, they have no more babies in the family! At least not from Andres' generation. They're all grown up! I wonder if Andres' parents feel old lol. I don't think of them as such, but I don't think of my own mother as old and she's over 50 now! 53 tomorrow! Aiya. 
> 
> Oh, sidenote, I updated Hell is Simply a Matter of Perspective. So if you were interested in an update featuring Jacob...well, it's there! lol. 
> 
> Okay, enough rambling. As always, please leave comments! And if all the comments are just you guys yelling at me for being so late, I understand and humbly request your forgiveness. I will not be making a habit out of it lol. 
> 
> See you all next week!


	46. Chapter 46

“Jesus, I’m tired,” Lyle sighed, plopping down on the couch.

I smiled, handing him another beer as I settled next to him, staring at the fireplace. It was a shame it was too hot to light it: it would be the perfect end to this long day. My parents were the last to leave, promising to stop by the next day—in the afternoon, after my insistence—to help me begin the unpacking process. I didn’t have a lot to unpack, but my parents had gone a bit crazy buying me all the cooking utensils I would ever need, as well as some small furniture, paintings, and other decorative items.

Just to get me started.

Once all the big stuff was moved inside, placed where they were likely going to stay until I had Lyle move them, the cookout began. The backyard wasn’t huge, but it was more than big enough for everyone to stand around drinking beers and watching Lyle get a better handle on grilling than Jorge. My uncle Sly, Yvette’s husband, arrived with a folding table and a few chairs, as well as my paternal grandmother. And the party only grew from then.

The neighbors stopped by after hearing the noise, a couple of butch lesbians who gifted me a peach cobbler to welcome me. They hung out only for a couple of beers, saying they would feel bad eating since I had a lot of people around; though the shorter one, Leslie, did grab a couple of veggie burgers when her wife wasn’t looking.

But now that they were gone, I really only had one thing on my mind. And it wasn’t unpacking, nor was it sleeping.

“Thanks for helping today,” I told him, finishing the rest of the beer I had been nursing for the last half hour. “And for being so cool with my family.”

“They’re really fun,” Lyle said, smiling at me. “I’m sorry, but we gotta have a bunch of cookouts this summer.”

“Yeah, that’s why they like you,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t believe in enabling their bad behavior.”

“What bad behavior? Feeding us and starting a dance battle?”

I hummed, and not just because said dance battle had gotten embarrassing when Jorge almost threw out his back again trying to keep up with Clyde and the twins.

Instead of answering, I slid down on the floor, settling between his legs.

“I was thinking more them being in my way so I couldn’t do _this_.”

Before Lyle could coyly ask just what _this_ was, I reached up and undid his pants. When I moved to pull them down, Lyle easily lifted his hips. His underwear came next, freeing his beautiful dick that was just begging to be inside me.

“I mean, if you really wanted to do this,” Lyle said as I stroke him until he hardened a bit, “all we had to do was sneak off to the bathroom.” 

“If we both went missing, it’d look suspicious.”

“Not if you’re qui—ahh.”

I had cut Lyle off by swallowing his cock easily, licking and sucking as it hardened in my mouth. I worked him to full hardness in what I was sure was seconds, licking his head and tasting the precum there. Lyle’s breath got heavy, and I came up, taking a second to enjoy the sound.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” I admitted, stroking him and admiring his dick a bit. I loved how it wasn’t insanely huge like some psychopaths that I refused to think about.

“I didn’t know you liked giving head that much,” Lyle said, his voice breathy.

“I don’t. Not really.” I shook my head a bit before I could get lost in a particular memory, focusing on the now. I looked up at Lyle and smiled. “But you make it worth the effort.”

Lyle’s response was an insistent hand on the back of my head, leading me down on his cock. I took him deep down my throat, gagging on him for as long as I could before coming up for air. I did that a few times before I adjusted myself, pushing myself down with more force.

It was a lot harder than I expected; my immediate reaction when I started gagging was to pull up. As if sensing my struggle, Lyle placed both of his hands on my head, pushing me down further than I could get myself. I went easily, this feeling painfully familiar.

I knew Lyle trusted me enough to tell him if he was being too aggressive. And I knew he knew that I liked it when he asserted himself more. But every time my mind went elsewhere, I tried to pull up, only for Lyle’s hands to keep me firmly in place. A simple tap on his leg would let him know I needed him to stop, and yet the idea of asking for it terrified me.

I hadn’t expected this.

Just then, Lyle started to thrust up into my throat. It surprised me at first, and I tried to pull off him. But he held me down, forcing me to take him down my throat. My mind went blank as I submitted to it. Lyle was always so soft. Gentle. So, normally, knowing that I was drawing this more aggressive side from him would excite me. Exhilarate me. 

But instead, all I felt was a need to obey. To be good and acquiesce so that he didn’t get rougher.

Lyle suddenly pulled me off, and I gasped, panting as I tried to catch my breath. I felt saliva trickle down my chin, and Lyle looked down on me with his dark eyes heavy with lust. I watched him, waiting. Trying to get back to reality. To now.

This wasn’t Evan or Josh. This was Lyle. And Lyle would never do anything to hurt me.

“You good?” he asked, his voice a pitch lower than normal.

I nodded, feeling grounded now. Evan wouldn’t have checked in on me like that. But Lyle wasn’t like Evan. In every way that mattered. So I smiled at him.

“I want you to fuck me in every room tonight.”

Lyle chuckled. Not because he thought I was joking, but because he knew I was serious. He nodded, grabbing his dick in his hand.

“Up,” he ordered. “On my lap then.”

I all but scrambled up, straddling Lyle’s lap in seconds. He didn’t give me any time to tease or ease him in. He grabbed my hips, his nails digging into my skin, and practically shoved me down on his dick in one rough movement.

I let out a whine, trying to quickly adjust. That had hurt, but in a nice way. Before I could enjoy his dick too much, he started to thrust up, bouncing me a little. I really should help him, but it was nice riding him like that for a minute. So I did, closing my eyes and melting at how good Lyle felt sliding in and out of me.

But then Lyle grabbed my dick, and my attention.

“I know you know how to bounce on my dick properly,” he growled in my ear. My heart skipped a beat. “Move.”

I did just that, adjusting myself a bit before I started riding myself on his dick.

“Fuck,” I moaned in his ear.

That felt too good. I rolled my hips in circles, setting a fast pace. Lyle seemed to like that, moaning as his nails dug into my shoulders. I wasn’t sure how long we went like that, but it must have been too long.

After a while, Lyle wrapped his arms around my waist, standing with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. I yelped, wrapping my arms around his neck while he moved us, his dick still in me. He placed me on my back on the couch, pushing my legs back.

I started to stop him: if I could help it, I tried not to be on my back during sex. But any hang ups I had over it went out the door once Lyle started fucking me. He leaned down until our chests were touching, kissing me and snapping his hips with more force and vigor than what should have been possible. He fucked me hard and deep, and I felt helpless and free all at the same time.

“I’m going to come,” Lyle warned me.

I just nodded. I still wasn’t on birth control, nor had we grabbed condoms. Both faults on my end. But I was too into it to care. I would just get the morning after pill the next day and see what happens.

“You can come inside me,” I told him.

His hips slowed, just a little. “You sure?”

“Yes. I—please?”

Lyle kissed me again, his pace increasing until he slammed deep inside me, his hips stilling. I caught my breath a bit while he came. He pulled out, somehow that surprising me, and he helped me to my feet. He then lifted me off my feet, princess style, the movement forcing me to throw my arms around his neck. He laughed.

“Did you think I would drop you?”

“Probably,” I said, shaking my head. “Warn me next time.”

“If I remember,” he promised, before walking me over to the kitchen.

He set me down in front of the counter, immediately leaning me over until my chest pressed against it. Without word or warning, he pushed inside me again, still hard and still energetic. He set another fast past, fucking me pleasantly against the counter. I really could do this all night.

“How long can you go like this before you come?” Lyle asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. A while?”

“Let’s make a game out of it. I’m going to fuck you in the bedroom, on your bad last. If you can manage every other room until then without coming, including the basement, I’ll admit that you’re smarter than me and that no scientific achievement will ever compare to your brain.”

I almost came just at the thought of that. However…

“And if I lose?” I challenged.

“Then for the next week, every day we video chat, you’re going to jerk off in front of me repeating until you come that I’m smarter than you.”

“That is totally not equal!”

“I’m sorry, what? You can’t do it?”

Why did he have to challenge me? Why? He knew it was my weakness. It wasn’t fair.

“Fine,” I gasped. “You’re on.”

“Perfect,” Lyle said, kissing my back before adjusting his position and fucking straight into my g-spot.

“F-f-fucking as-asshole,” I panted, helpless to do nothing but take it. I was going to lose like this.

But in the kitchen, Lyle managed to come before me. He had to walk me down the stairs to the basement because my legs were too weak. The washer and dryer were down there, so he leaned me against that, holding up my legs as he fucked me. I almost came then, but managed to hold out. Apparently the garage counted as a room, so he took me there after finally stripping me naked to fuck me against the garage door.

After that, we rounded the house and went inside, the warm, night air against my bare skin turning me on even more. Aside from the neighbors on the east side who visited, I did have other neighbors on the side the garage let out on. And while there were tall trees separating our properties, I knew for a fact that if someone looked out a window, they would have seen Lyle walking me around naked while he was fully dressed.

We then went into the half bathroom, where Lyle fucked me against the sink and threatened to jerk me off if I didn’t watch myself in the mirror the entire time. The other two bedrooms didn’t really have too interesting places to fuck me in. He threw me on the floor on my back and fucked me like that in one, and the other room—the one I was sure would be my office—he fucked me against the window.

By the time we got to the bedroom, I was tired. And I had no idea how Lyle had any more in him. But sure enough, when he threw me on my bed, he was still hard.

“I’m surprised you lasted this long,” he said, watching as I crawled away from him to the top of the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard.

“I’m not,” I said, panting. I needed a fucking minute. “I’m better than you.”

Lyle shook his head, only then moving to strip himself off his clothes. “I have to come first here before you win,” he told me.

“Fine,” I nodded. “You won’t last five minutes.”

Lyle watched me for a full second before moving. Climbing on the bed, he reached for my leg, easily yanking me closer to him. I yelped, surprised. He manhandled me until I was on my knees, pushing my torso down until my chest was pressed against the bed. I didn’t move away even when Lyle straightened, pushing my legs apart.

He pressed inside me instantly, zeroing in on that spot and pounding into it relentlessly. I whined and moaned, feeling my orgasm build as he fucked me within an inch of my life, my mind going completely blank.

He’d been going easy on me this entire time. I could tell now. If he had fucked me like this in the beginning, I would have came back in the kitchen. Maybe even the living room. A particularly pleasant thrust brought me close to the edge, and I did have to pull away then.

Lyle, however, was in a very aggressive—very cruel—mood. He grabbed my hips, pulling me back into place. I gasped, my body so hot that I felt like I was going to catch fire.

“I just need a second,” I told him, trying to pull away again.

“No, you don’t,” Lyle said, pulling me back on his dick. He leaned forward, putting a hand between my shoulder blades to keep me in place. Somehow, that position pushed him deeper inside.

I was going to lose.

“Almost there,” Lyle muttered as he fucked me into the bed. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

I babbled something incoherent; I think I was going to agree with him. But it didn’t matter. Sure enough, my orgasm grew. Bigger and bigger. Closer and closer. Almost there. Fuck. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I was helpless.

When I came, everything went white. I heard nothing but white noise, liking rushing water. My entire body felt too hot, too sensitive. Buzzing with energy. Like magic. I wasn’t sure how long I laid there, trying to recover. It took a while for me to feel Lyle still fucking me, chasing his own orgasm now. I sighed, taking it all a bit longer until he finally came deep inside me.

I still didn’t move until he pulled out, and collapsed on the bed next to me. I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling as we both took a moment to catch our breaths. The air was on, and so it wasn’t long before the sweat over my body hitting the air made me uncomfortable. I started to move off the bed to find the sheets my mother had bought for me, but Lyle pulled me around the waist until he was spooning me in his arms.

“I won,” he mumbled in my ear.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” I retorted.

“Want to practice now? I want you to say ‘You’re smarter than me, Lyle.’”

I turned until I was facing him, glaring at him. “Fuck you.”

“You want to go _again_? I think I can squeeze out more…”

“No, stop,” I groaned. “You know I can’t say it.”

“You’ll have time to practice until Monday.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Lyle effectively silenced me with a kiss. I allowed it, for now. He wasn’t going to get his way that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Wow! Sure has been a while since I updated. That's not, uh, like me, huh? Sorry about that! 
> 
> I don't like making excuses, but it is what it is. Life got in the way the first week I missed it, and I was hit with a heavy case of depression the week after that made me sort of throw everything in the air and go "FUCK IT! TAKE A BREAK AND DON'T EVEN ANNOUNCE IT" lol. If you've been following me for a while, you all know I HATE taking breaks like that, especially unannounced. 
> 
> But I'm learning that you can't plan every little meltdown so that it doesn't get in the way of stuff, you know? Sometimes, you need to just have that meltdown and not hold yourself to insane standards. I will say this, next story, I'm going to make sure I have a solid half of the story written by the time I start uploading, and a clear plan of where the story is going to end. 
> 
> There are still quite a few chapters for me to get through before I can say that the ending is in sight, but at least I know what I'm doing with this story now lol. I'm actually in the middle of writing a pretty heavy scene now. And it's just the beginning of a bunch of heavy scenes. Just a warning. 
> 
> I think that's part of what keeps having me put off writing this story tbqh. Knowing the scenes coming up is a bit depressing. They're going to be dark and heavy and angsty and just really emotional. And when I write them, I have to go through those emotions too and God is it hard at times. But I'm going to really commit to making this story my sort-of NaNoWriMo project and finish it in November lol. 
> 
> As always, my stories have happy endings! I believe in the happy ending, even if the journey to get there is dark as hell! 
> 
> So what did y'all think? I think (well, I know) part of the reason I put off uploading is because this chapter is a sex scene! And, if you guys remember, I get so embarrassed rereading sex scenes I write. I don't think this one is particularly good, but I had to get over it. While editing it, I thought it was smarter to link it to another scene that will be coming up. And to set the stage for some future drama. So even though it seems like a simple sex scene, IT'S NOT lol. 
> 
> I think that Lyle and Andres have good chemistry. But it wasn't good for Andres to not speak up during that blow job, right? Andres was never particular about them before, but there's a reason he's not too partial to them now. That scene, I've reread a few times, and it's also a bit heavy. We have time before that anyway. 
> 
> Ah, so today is a random upload on a Tuesday, but I figured to make up for my lack of updates, I'll do two uploads this week. So, yes, Thursday, I will be returning to my normal upload schedule. 
> 
> I do apologize for the break, and I'll be answering y'alls comments later tonight. I appreciate you guys sticking by me while I just, well, go through it. But I do think it's time I return to my typical writing and upload schedule. I've rested enough, don't you think? 
> 
> Please leave comments as always, and thank you!


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for anyone returning after a while that this is the SECOND upload this week. Make sure you read chapter 46 before starting this one! :3

“A month?” I asked, frowning as I looked at the practice book in front of me.

“Is that too much for you to handle?” Mrs. Nydia asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Mr. Genius?”

I started to tell her that I wasn’t a genius, but Lex and Dreama giggled. I still thought it was insane that Mrs. Nydia wanted me to take the Nation’s midwife certification test in a month’s time. I still felt like I knew nothing of birthing babies, and all the other associated bits.

But, I realized, Mrs. Nydia’s remark was more of a word of encouragement: she believed I could do it. She’d caught on early that I liked challenges, and, like Evan, loved mildly insulting my intelligence just so I could prove her wrong. And every time I did, she never seemed surprised by it.

She was doing it again: challenging me to rise to the occasion.

“I can do it,” I said, grabbing the practice book and looking through it. “It’s not a problem that I’m int—a surrogate doing this?”

“Exceptions are often made for orthodox communities like ours,” Mrs. Nydia explained, returning to her computer. “Evan is giving his explicit consent, and the Nation would never go against that.”

I hummed. It was just the four of us at the birthing center: Lex and Dreama were showing me emergency rescue protocols like what to do if a child isn’t crying or breathing when they’re born. After spending all morning and afternoon on that, Mrs. Nydia had shown up to take care of some paperwork before dinner.

Once she showed up, Lex and Dreama stopped caring about our lesson, and I wasn’t complaining about the break. These lessons were getting much longer and involved now, and Lex and Dreama were tough teachers. Not as tough as Mrs. Nydia, but close seconds. Around Mrs. Nydia, however, they always relaxed and talked a lot about anything happening on the compound.

“It’s easier when you’re a woman though,” Lex said absentmindedly. “At least an infertile one.”

“Seriously,” Dreama agreed. “We’re in the wrong cult. I could be a real doctor if I wasn’t here.”

That surprised me. “Really?” I asked. “The Nation lets women do stuff like that?”

“There is a logic to all of this,” Lex explained, shrugging. “They wouldn’t be able to convince an entire country to go along with this if there wasn’t. Surrogates have no choice: they are sold off to infertile families to bear them children. With women, though, it’s only the fertile ones that aren’t allowed an education.”

“Well, it’s different now,” Dreama elaborated. “With us, all women were educated, but girls had to stop once they were found fertile. Now, girls aren’t taught anything at all until puberty. If they’re fertile, they’ll continue like that, but the infertile ones are allowed to pursue an education.”

“I’ve read about the way the Nation tests for that,” I mused, thinking about that. What a weird and fucked up system. “It’s surprisingly precise. It’s less of an inherited gene, but rather a way in which it mutates with the onset of puberty. For women, anyway. This doesn’t seem to happen with inte—with surrogates.”

“God, you really are a nerd,” Dreama laughed.

Lex joined her while I pretended to pout at them. “I specialize in gene therapy. Of course I’d know that!”

The two laughed at me while Mrs. Nydia lightly shook her head. The door creaked open then, and the mood darkened when Evan walked in. Lex and Dreama straightened while Mrs. Nydia frowned at him. I stood up, the practice book still in my hands.

“There you are,” he said to me, smiling sweetly. He glanced at the women. “Pardon the intrusion, ladies.”

“Men are not supposed to be in here,” Mrs. Nydia said tightly. “ _All_ men are to respect that, Evan.”

“My apologies,” Evan said evenly, taking a step back so that he was right in the doorway. “I was just eager to find my wife. You should all head to dinner soon. Even women well past childbearing age should eat well.”

Mrs. Nydia stood up, her lips in a tight line. I’d never seen her this angry. If she fought with Evan, would Evan stop me from coming here? Would I not be allowed to become a midwife?

Did I even care one way or the other?

“I’m coming,” I said, walking over to him. I glanced at the women once I reached the door. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

They all gave me tight nods, and I quickly left the building. Evan was hot in my heels, wrapping an arm around my waist as we headed to the table.

“I didn’t know that was a rule,” I said conversationally.

Evan shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a hard one. Everyone who was born here was born in that building: the boys too. And in an emergency, our medical team would be forced to go inside. But yes, it is a general rule. Only Mrs. Nydia seems to care so much about it.”

“She just takes her job seriously. She loves what she does.”

“I’m sure. Any other man, she would have properly scolded. She was smart to not try that with me.”

Evan’s grip tightened on my waist and I swallowed. Why did Evan have to be like this? He was like a child, throwing around his weight and daring anyone to challenge him. He’d been doing this a lot recently. Everyone always knew he would take over one day, but after Father’s announcement—after Evan named his second—everyone held him in an even higher regard. Almost as if he were Father already.

And Evan knew it. He basked in it.

He loved it.

“I want you next to me at dinner tonight,” Evan said, moving his arm to simply grasp my hand.

“Okay,” I said, holding the practice book to my chest. “Is something happening?”

“No. I just feel like we don’t get many opportunities to be affectionate in public. I wish to rectify that.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“All those big words. It feels like you’re trying to say something else.”

“Hmm,” Evan hummed, seeming to consider that. “You understand that when I become the patriarch here, you will replace my mother, correct?”

I went a little cold. I was sure Evan could feel it in my hands.

“Yes,” I said easily enough.

“I’m not sure if others here understand that.”

He said it casually, as though it was nothing. But I knew it wasn’t nothing. No one respected me. And they wouldn’t respect me once I became Mother. It was easy to see the issue in that: if no one respected Evan’s wife, it would quickly become a situation where people wouldn’t respect him. And if that happened, Evan’s position would be challenged.

“I’m doing my best,” I said to him. “To fit in. To adjust.”

Evan stopped us a few yards from the table. He looked down at me, his eyes so full of love and pity. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Waiting for the blow.

“You could stand to do better,” he said.

I blinked, somehow feeling defeated. How? What could I possibly do to “do better?” What was I _not_ doing?

“Okay,” I said instead of asking those questions. Because Evan wasn’t going to give me the answer. No one would. I had to figure it out myself.

Evan smiled, brushing his thumb across my lips.

“Good boy,” he sang. “Now give me a smile.”

I let out a heavy breath, wishing I could hit him. Or slam him into the ground with the weight of my magic.

But I didn’t have my magic. So on the inhale, I curled my lips up and gave Evan a pleasant smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. He was very happy with it though, leaning down to kiss me.

Without another word, he linked his arm in mine and led me to the table. He sat at the head, right next to the last deacon, greeting them loudly. I smiled and said hello to the wives, telling the deacon close to us that I was fine when he asked how I was doing.

“Such a sweetheart,” the deacon mused, turning to Evan as he sat down. “He’s always so polite when I see him.”

“A _polite_ matriarch,” Mother said from the head, almost scoffing. “I’m not sure we’ve seen that before.”

The wives giggled, some of the men dutifully hiding smirks themselves.

 _I hate this fucking place_ , I thought.

Still, I knew how to play this game.

“Most things are never seen before until it’s done,” I said to Mother, giving her my sweetest smile. “I had rather hoped my behavior would convey to the congregation that my husband has me properly in check.” I then turned to the deacons, raising an eyebrow. “Or am I wrong?”

“Nothing wrong with a wife who knows his place,” the man across from Mrs. Ruthanne said. He was a stern looking fellow with salt-and-pepper hair. “These young wives often forget.”

“Our job is to make our husbands look good,” Mrs. Nydia said, walking up and sitting at the second to the end, the man across from her dark skinned with a shaved head. Mrs. Nydia looked at him, smiling. “I work so hard because I know every accomplishment reflects well on you.”

The men all chuckled, as if embarrassed by Mrs. Nydia’s confession. I felt odd about it myself. Was she lying? She let a lot of the people at the center shit talk the Willows. Did she report it all to her husband, or keep it all in her head as blackmail material?

Or was she just that good at faking it in front of her husband?

“And we appreciate your hard work,” he said, reaching across the table for her hand. “You could still afford to loosen the reigns a bit, love.”

Mrs. Nydia glanced at me. “Maybe.”

“Shall we say grace, dear?” Mother asked Father, obviously over this conversation.

Father glanced down the table, deciding that enough people were there to warrant leading everyone in grace. Which was great; the food on the table was hearty and smelled heavenly. It’d been pretty hard trying to ignore it.

After grace, everyone dug in. Evan and the deacons started a conversation on Father’s last sermon: the topic of service both inside and outside the community. The men had been given a challenge: to see how they could find new ways to serve the Lord outside the community. The wives had been told the same thing we were told every week: serve our husbands in order to serve our community and the world at large.

I found it fascinating how small the wives’ challenges were while the men were given enough material to debate over it for a week until next Sunday.

“Hi!” Shiloh said, pulling me from my thoughts and sitting next to me. “How are you?”

“Good,” I said, nodding at Josh as he sat on Shiloh’s other side. He immediately turned to speak to a man that I only belatedly realized was sitting across from Jackie. Interesting. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, Josh had vacation from his job,” Shiloh grinned. “He’s taking two weeks because he’ll lose it if he doesn’t use it. He hasn’t let me out of bed much.”

“How lovely,” I all but choked out. “Glad you can join us now.”

“Seriously,” Shiloh said, looking around and loading his plate up with sautéed veggies. “I feel like I can’t eat enough these days.”

“Really?” That surprised me. Shiloh’s period only ended about a week ago. There wasn’t nearly enough time for him to even ovulate, let alone get pregnant.

“Yes,” he said, shrugging. “I think I was still trying to hold on to it a bit: not getting pregnant. But if my period has returned, there’s no fighting it now. And as soon as I decided to stop, I suddenly got hungry, like, all the time.”

I smiled. “Making up for lost time, I guess.”

“I’m going to get huge if I don’t slow down,” Shiloh said, digging into the rice. He seemed to be still considering whether to eat the fried pork chops or the honey grilled chicken.

“You can afford it,” I said, a movement down the table grabbing my attention.

Jacob was sitting next to Declan: something I didn’t really see often. Not so much because they didn’t sit together, but because Jacob worked a lot. In fact, Serenity had mentioned that Mrs. Lynn had given him all morning shifts, except Sundays, and three dinner shifts a week. And even an odd lunch shift if Jacob asked for it.

And Jacob _was_ , apparently, asking for it. And Mrs. Lynn was giving it to him. Something, I learned after questioning the twins, that was very rare. There were a couple of others whom Mrs. Lynn did that with: those who were hoping to take over the kitchen once Mrs. Lynn couldn’t run it anymore. And if Mrs. Lynn was particular about who she even allowed peeling potatoes in her kitchen, I could only imagine how good someone would have to be for her to put them in her inner circle of would-be apprentices.

Jacob _could_ cook, if I learned anything from those days he cooked for us to apologize for running. But to think that he impressed even Mrs. Lynn was astonishing. I was happy for him, though: it was obvious Jacob needed something to center him in all this. Ground him. Something he could find happiness in. Serenity was enjoying playing with the kids all day: something she didn’t expect to like so much. And even I was enjoying learning something new with my midwifery training; challenging myself to catch on as quickly as possible. Jacob deserved that too.

But Declan had been complaining about it to anyone who would listen. The problem was that no one would listen. For Jacob to go from trying to run away to really diving into his place in the Willows showed nothing but growth. And it made Declan look good. So no one could understand why he was upset that his wife was thriving in the kitchens.

“I don’t care if he wants to tire himself out there,” Declan’s voice was carrying up the table. He was talking to a man on his other side as if Jacob weren’t there. “But he still has duties at home that he needs to tend to. Not my fault the old bitty took a liking to him. What? Yeah, I called her a bitty? So?”

I turned to Evan, putting a hand on his leg. He pulled away from the deacon speaking to look at me.

“What’s wrong, _mi sol_?” he asked.

“Jacob isn’t eating.”

Evan looked like he was going to scold me again, but he seemed to catch something in my eye. He paused, looking down the table at Declan.

“I just saying that I’m his husband! I didn’t even approve of all these hours. And what does she say when I tell her to cut them back? That I should be happy _she’s_ whipped him into shape. Her! These fucking women: all this talk of gentle leadership is making them get too full of themselves.”

“Who is he talking about?” Evan asked me, his voice low.

“Mrs. Lynn.”

“Jacob’s hours?”

I nodded.

Evan rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss me.

“As rude as he’s being, his wife _is_ working a lot now. If those idiots are willing to listen, that’s on them.”

“I don’t disagree with him,” the man on Josh’s other side—what did Evan say Jackie’s husband’s name was? Oh, Rueben—was saying to Josh. “I don’t think we should be quite as gentle as Evan preaches.”

“Evan is just infatuated with his new bride,” Josh said, waving a hand. “It’s easier to properly discipline once the honeymoon phase is over.”

“Declan’s been that way since the beginning…”

“Declan’s been a dick his whole life. It doesn’t mean he has any idea what he’s talking about.”

“I should just ban him from the kitchen,” Declan said rather cruelly, glaring at Jacob. Jacob, for his part, just stared at his untouched food. “A week on his hands and knees getting properly dicked down will remind him of his place.”

The women near Declan frowned, turning away from him in offense. One teenage girl gave Jacob a sympathetic smile. Everyone knew what an ass Declan was. Everyone knew that the reason this was so hard on Jacob was because of Declan. And yet no one was willing to _do_ anything about it.

I was fucking sick of it.

“Sit down,” Evan said suddenly, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me down. I hadn’t even noticed that I stood. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“His freak-out is stressing Jacob out,” I hissed at Evan, barely remembering to keep my voice down. “He’s. Not. _Eating_.”

“He’ll survive,” Evan snapped, now pissed. “You need to get a grip.”

“He’s pregnant,” I snapped myself.

Evan looked taken aback. I froze. He didn’t know that? Declan hadn’t told him? Not even when Jacob ran? Wouldn’t the Nation have been on an even higher alert over an escaped surrogate that was pregnant?

Why was Declan keeping it a secret?

“How do you know?” Evan asked me, his voice serious now.

“Jacob told me,” I admitted.

“How does he know?”

“Declan made him take a test. Multiple. Before he ran.”

Evan wasn’t taking this lightly. He turned to the men, muttering to them. A few of them glanced down the table at Declan, listening in on his rants.

“…not right for another man to interfere—”

“He needs Declan’s firm hand—”

“If that’s the case, Declan should have called for—”

“Why keep that a secret?”

“It’s suspicious—”

“…always questioning your—”

“He’s challenging you,” Josh said above all the chatter. His eyes were on Declan, watching. “He’s getting louder. He wants you to hear. He’s challenging your ways.”

Evan held Josh’s gaze for a full second before more movement down the table caught his, and everyone’s, attention.

“I said,” Declan all but screamed, “you need to fucking eat before you leave this table!”

The table went quiet at that. The women near them slid a bit further away, the surrogate on Jacob’s other side putting a hand on his back for comfort. A few men in the area were shaking their heads, though I wasn’t sure if it was at Jacob or Declan.

Either way, the disapproval for the entire thing was apparent. From Declan’s cursing to the way Jacob got very still, his chest barely moving with breath, as he kept his eyes closed and waited.

“You must have wanted this,” Declan said, standing. He roughly grabbed Jacob’s arm, yanking him to his feet. Jacob’s eyes were still closed as Declan continued. “You’re really an attention whore, aren’t you? You want me to beat you in front of everyone? Fine. Let’s go.”

There were murmurs as Declan walked Jacob up the length at the table, heading for the stage behind where Father and Mother sat. They exchanged glances, obviously not happy with this display. A few children were whining. And I found myself once again having Evan pull me down after I had stood up.

“Sit down,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Do not make me tell you again.”

I started to protest, but Evan was up and moving to intercept Declan. At least he was finally going to do something.

“Declan,” Evan said, his voice calm as he approached him. “Remember that the Lord calls us to lead with love.”

“I do love my wife,” Declan challenged, frowning at Evan. “That’s why I will be firm with him. He will learn to obey me.”

“He’s already been forgiven for his recent transgression,” Evan pressed. “How does he disobey you now?”

“I wasn’t aware I had to get your permission to discipline my wife.”  


The sneer was apparent, the threat clear. Declan saw this as a challenge. And he was not going to take it lying down.

“When we discipline in anger, it leads to abuse,” Evan all but snapped back. “We do not abuse our wives: we lead them in the Lord’s way. If your wife has strayed from the Lord’s path, then you must lead him back.”

“And I _will_ by beating his ass in front of the congregation.”

“The vulgarity of your tongue is proof enough you do this out of anger, not love.”

“The vulgarity of my tongue? Evan, shut the fuck up.”

There were very audible gasps then. I glanced around, no one moving to stop this. To intercede. It was as if everyone was waiting to see what would happen. Who would win. And while these two men had a dick measuring contest—of which I was pretty certain Evan would win both figurately and literally—Jacob was frozen in fear, sniffing away tears.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I was up in an instant, at Jacob’s side as quickly as I could be. Declan didn’t release his hold, but he stepped back, surprised. Evan looked furious at me, but I ignored him as I pulled Jacob into my arms. He let out a dry sob, bringing his other arm up to hug me back.

“Look at this,” Declan sneered. “Our heir apparent with a disobedient wife. Stay out of men’s business, love.”

I set a hard glare at Declan over Jacob’s head.

“You’re scaring him,” I scolded. I didn’t care what was or wasn’t my place: Jacob was _terrified_ , and I was done letting this place do that to him. “Your fight has nothing to do with him.”

“Andres,” Evan reproached, obviously pissed. “I told you multiple times to sit dow—”

I leveled my glare at Evan now too. “He’s been standing here between you two, scared and alone. Why should he have to go through this alone?”

Evan looked taken aback. Declan also seemed oddly at a loss for words. I held Jacob tighter, determined not to let go until he was away from Declan’s grasp. There was a pause as the entire compound held its breath. After a beat, there was movement again: Shiloh. He stood up, reaching us in seconds and joining me by Jacob’s side.

Evan relaxed then.

“You’re okay,” I said in Jacob’s ear, fluffing his growing afro. “We’re right here, okay? You’re okay.”

“Insolent,” Declan grumbled. “This is where your weak practices lead, Evan. You and your second with insolent wives.”

Josh stood, but Declan was already moving, trying to pull Jacob from our grasp. Jacob cried out, gripping my arm hard. Shiloh wrapped an arm around Jacob’s waist, and Declan gripped Shiloh’s shirt, trying to pull him away in response.

Josh was in the mix in a second, all but yanking Shiloh from Declan’s grasp. This also broke Declan’s hold on Jacob. Once free, I pulled Jacob closer, walking him away from the scuffle, Josh gently shoving Shiloh away as well. Evan had been trying to grip Declan, grabbing his arms to control him. But Declan spun around out of his hands, a fist aiming straight for Evan’s face.

I saw the impact, saw the way Evan’s head snapped back, heard the gasps from everyone around. I heard footsteps, seeing Serenity run up and reach out to us. She looked terrified, but as soon as Jacob saw her, he all but collapsed in her arms. The four of us stood off to the side, Mike also moving closer to the fight. Declan looked around, finally finding us standing with Jacob away from him.

“These will be your leaders,” Declan snarled at us. At the congregation. At Josh, circling him. At Father still seated at the head of the table. At Evan, slowly rising from the ground, a hand over his bloody nose. “Weak men with disobedient and foreign wives, caring more about love than maintaining the dominions God left _us_ in charge of!”

“All that talk,” Evan said, full straightened, looking at us before returning to Declan, “and yet here you stand _alone_.”

Declan paused, taken aback. He looked around, as if just realizing that Mike was behind him, Josh to the side, and Evan in front of him. He was surrounded by enemies; those whose love is mandatory by proxy of his residency at the Willows. But not because of any real love between them.

“When Jacob was in distress, the wives were willing to disobey their husbands to do what they are taught to do: support each other. Help each other. I don’t even need the help, and yet I have friends ready to fight by my side. But where, Declan, are you allies? Where are your friends?”

Declan didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he watched Evan, breathing heavily. Like a dragon, waiting for his prey to move so he could attack. After a moment, Declan did just that, moving to punch Evan again. I let in a sharp gasp, feeling so annoyingly helpless. I wasn’t much of a fighter, but I could stop Declan in a second if I had my magic.

If only I had my…

Evan dodged Declan’s punch easily, moving his hand forward so his palm faced Declan. And I felt it; a pressure from the air, focused out and around Declan, pulling from everywhere, slamming against him. Declan fell back, and Evan did it again. Only this time, the energy dispersed. With enough wind and force that I _really_ felt it.

With enough force that I felt something click at my wrist.

I looked down, and saw the sigils on the medical bracelet shift. In an instant, I saw the beautiful lines of the magic around it; now broken. I looked up, and saw the lines of magic, so oddly similar to my own, forming waves of pressure as they kept Declan on the ground. I saw the way the magic lit up Evan’s body, blue and white and yellow dancing around as greys and purples weaved in from the afternoon sky’s power.

I could see the magic around me. I could feel it swirling through my body, white hot energy desperate to get out. My magic was back.

_My magic was back._

I looked around, looking for more magic. There wasn’t a lot, admittedly. Most of it was around Evan, especially since he was using it. Father had a faint glow around him, no lines as his magic was dormant. And one other person with the threads of magic illuminating her body in a light only I could see. A person who surprised me. A person who shouldn’t be able to use magic.

Mother.

And she was looking right at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter was loooooooooong! Lol. 
> 
> Ahh, what did you all think? Surprised? Excited? Gosh, what will happen next, I wonder? 
> 
> I love cliffhangers. I hate reading them, but they're so fun to write. And, ngl, I love leaving you guys hanging for a week. I promise it will only be a week this time! Lol. Promise! 
> 
> It was a matter of time before Declan and Evan butted heads. Literally. Though with his magic, Evan overpowers Declan easily. I had fun writing this scene and reading it back, it was so intense! Ahhh! The next chapter will be the aftermath, which miiiiiiiiiiiight also end in a way that drives you guys up a wall. Idk. No promises either way lol. 
> 
> I don't have much to ramble about today. I've been thinking a lot of stuff, so now is a good time for me to really focus on writing. Not just this story, but journaling too. Today, I asked myself, "What would I do if I went ghost and dedicated the next year to my goals? What would I do if I lived for myself instead of anyone else?" 
> 
> The answers were interesting. It's more so about my personal life. I have an ex from HS that I saw for the first time in a year last weekend. He really triggers something uncomfortable in me because he's really dope and cool, and I LOVE joking and messing around with him. He's fun. But so many people think that means I'm INTO him (I'm a lesbian, so no lol). When we dated in hs, I kinda only did it because everyone would look at us and be like "why aren't you two dating?" And even last year, when we reunited at my friend's wedding, his frigging MOM was there and she would see us laugh and joke and I could SEE those "please get with him and become my future daughter-in-law" looks and it's like "ma'am, you should have had a girl, because if he was a woman, I'd marry him (her?) today!" 
> 
> I think the reason being around him makes me feel weird is because we do get on so well, and it's like the ONLY thing that is stopping us from doing just that (we're both turning 30 next year, and single; we could totally just do it, just saying lol) is the fact that I'm a lesbian. And it's weird to see him and think "if you could get past that, here's your husband." I went through this last year, and I was talking to my friend about it who said it was likely a lot of unchecked internalized homophobia. Which I think it is? 
> 
> And then I also feel some sort of way because I consider myself out, but since I'm single, it's not like I get a chance to be LOUD about it. And because of that, people keep thinking I'm straight, and it puts me in a weird position. Like, when I saw my ex last week, it was at my friend's 30th birthday party, and another mutual friend, who didn't know us in hs, was watching us and he kept going "you need to get with him Aizenat. I'll hook you guys up." And, like, I tried to laugh it off, but, like, I'm at a party where I only REALLY know like half the people there, and I'm not trying to fucking come out to a bunch of strangers and snap "I'm a whole ass dyke!" just to shut him up. 
> 
> I wish I was still 19/20/21, where I was loud and out and shit all the time. 
> 
> I think as I approach my 30s, I'm reflecting a lot on a lot of the ways I held myself back to be easier to consume by others. And I refuse to enter my 30s keeping that shit up. I guess I'm trying to figure out how to live louder. I feel like I've spent my entire life being quiet, and I'm about to turn 30 (eh, in like 8 months but still soon lol), and I just want to live LOUDER. 
> 
> Idk why I decided to tell y'all this instead of just journaling it (lol), but there you go. Hope you enjoyed that ramble. 
> 
> Anyway, what do you guys think of the story? Any predictions for next week? Please leave comments as always! Thank you!


	48. Chapter 48

Her eyes were wide as she watched me. I saw the recognition in them. Saw the confusion and then realization. Then I saw her notice that _I_ saw her. Saw her watching me. She saw me realize that she had a secret that could end her.

Mother could use magic.

I wasn’t sure how proficient she was with it. But I could follow the lines and see them around her. Lighting her. She could use magic.

And she knew I now could too.

A gasp tore through the crowd as Declan struggled and failed to get up. Evan was looking for napkins for his nose while the deacons and a few other men stood up. A couple of them grabbed Declan by the arms. He was too weak under the pressure to fight. I was surprised he wasn’t heavy; Evan was manipulating the air around Declan to cause it to be too heavy for him to move. It should make it difficult to move him.

Unless…

I traced the lines, finding connections where I hadn’t seen it early. I was out of practice. But I saw it then: not a physical spell, but a mental one. He’d convinced Declan’s mind that his body was too heavy for him to move. Mental spells were difficult. And often required a lot of energy. That explained the rush of magic that fanned out as Evan casted it. And, I realized now looking down at the bracelet, I could see where the weakness in the spell surrounding the bracelet were. I could even fix it if I wanted.

Not that I would ever want to.

“What are they going to do to him?” Jacob asked, watching as the men started to escort Declan away.

No one answered, but Evan heard him. He met eyes with his father, and there was a quick moment of understanding.

“Goodwives,” Father said, standing. “Please return to your homes. Someone tell Lynn to prepare individual meals for tonight and tomorrow.”

There was movement as women and surrogates moved, grabbing children and herding each other away towards the houses. I turned to Jacob, Serenity, and Shiloh, who were all just standing huddled together, watching.

“Mother,” Evan said suddenly, grabbing my attention. He walked over to me, a bloody napkin over his nose. “Escort our wives to the main house, please.”

“Shiloh, go home,” Josh added sternly.

Mother nodded, standing and walking over to us. “Come.”

Shiloh gave Jacob one last hug before turning to head to his own house. I started to move after them, Evan catching my arm beforehand. I froze, wondering if he was going to fix the bracelet.

“We’re going to have a long talk about your insolence today,” he warned me.

I nodded. What more was there to say to that?

“Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t regret it.”

“Not yet, anyway,” I said.

He nodded. Once. And then let me go.

I took that for the obvious dismissal that it was, catching up with the others quickly. I started to match pace with Jacob and Serenity, who were still hugging each other even as they walked. But Mother caught me, pulling me ahead of them a bit.

“What a display,” she said, her voice a song. “I must admit, I was impressed. Using our emphasis on community to justify disobeying your husband. What a smart little thing you are.”

“We’ll see how smart it was after he punishes me,” I muttered, wincing at the thought of it.

“Oh, I’m sure Evan was too impressed to be too rough. A beating isn’t the end of the world, now is it?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. It was likely that I wasn’t supposed to answer. Always with her lovely little reminders. We approached a house at the front of the block of them, facing the table. It was tall and red, three stories high and bigger than any other house. I had always assumed this house was used for something; what, I wasn’t sure. But I never thought anyone lived there.

“You live here?” I asked as we walked up the front steps to the door.

“Yup,” Mother said, proudly.

“With how many families?”

“Just us. It’s the leadership’s house.”

I blinked. We walked inside, the entrance opening to a grand entryway that led off to different rooms. I heard Serenity let out a small “whoa” as she looked around. The floors were a pretty, albeit old fashioned marble, with an intricate and large glass chandelier hanging over the entrance. A long staircase with wooden banisters climbed up the multiple stories, leading to hallways unseen. It was like a mini mansion.

“Okay,” Mother said, leading us down the hall and through a door. “Let’s wait here for our husbands.”

It opened into a beautifully decorated sitting room, the walls lined with bookshelves. There were nice, dark wood couches with two chairs in the middle of the room with a small coffee table between them. A chess board was on top of it, black and white pieces scattered across it.

“My husband and I play before bed,” Mother explained, moving to clean it up. “We got a little lazy last night and never put it away.”

“I know how to play,” Jacob said, taking an awkward step forward.

Mother paused, watching him careful before moving to put the pieces back in their starting positions.

“I can play you,” Serenity offered. She looked at Mother. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine,” she said, smiling at them. “I’ll go get some snacks and tea while we wait. I’m sure you’re all still hungry.”

No one protested; instead, Jacob and Serenity thanked Mother while sitting down in the chairs and starting to play. Mother gestured for me to follow her, and we both left the room. She didn’t say anything as she led me further down the hall, through another door that led into a large, brick kitchen. Mother moved to the gas stove, filling a kettle with water.

“Some chamomile tea will calm everyone down,” she said, looking through the cabinets a bit before pulling out a tin. “Do you drink tea?”

“No,” I said, walking over to the counter. “Do you know how to use magic?”

“Straight to the point then,” she sighed, pulling out a large, glass tea press. “Yes. I can.”

“Why?” I demanded. “How?”

“Those are both odd and vague questions. Try again.”

“Does Evan know you can use magic?”

Mother scoffed.

“Who do you think taught him as a child?”

I was dumbfounded. “You?”

Mother shrugged.

“Just the basics. His father was far too busy when Evan was young for that. And it’s that way in general: no matter the sex of your child, you will spend more time with them those first few years than your husband. It only made sense for me to be the one to teach him.”

“I thought only the patriarch learned the magic he uses,” I pushed. “Who taught you?”

“My husband did. Years beforehand. I…” Mother’s voice trailed out. She glanced at me, as if considering. She moved, filling up the press with loose tea leaves while waiting for the water to boil. “Do you ever find it odd that I only have Evan?”

I had. But I didn’t question it. A lot of the deacon wives had few children. Only the young bunnies like Debbie had the insane amount that made me want to scream.

“Those of us from that time, right before the war,” Mother continued when I didn’t answer, “the vast majority of us have fertility issues. Not sure why. I’m sure you know, you little smarty pants. Some genetic issue?”

I had heard of that. It was common among women my mother’s generation to have had so few kids. I never researched it though. Not sure why; just never thought it was relevant. Now I wondered.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

“Hmm. Well, it was very typical. I miscarried five times before Evan stuck. He was my miracle baby. After the third miscarriage, my husband and I started considering our options. If it never happened. Adoption was likely; there are plenty of ways to do that in the Nation. But we’d have to teach the child magic.

“My husband originally taught me enough so I could see who had a propensity for it. That way, if we adopted, we didn’t bond with, well, a dud. The mysticism of our religion is part of how the patriarch communes with God. It’s important. Without it…”

Mother trailed off as the tea kettle went off. I watched as she filled up the press, letting the tea leaves float freely and turn the water a light honey color.

“Once I got past the first trimester with Evan, Evan’s grandfather got sick. During this time, my husband taught me more magic. Just in case something happened to him, he said. After his father passed, my husband became rather obsessed with death. At first he feared it, but now he embraces it.

“It helps to know he can move on in peace; that everything is in place for that day. But back then, so much was in the air. He was afraid of death. And so in case it came for him early, he said I needed to be able to teach our son. So he taught me more and more. I’m still not 100% at it, but enough to teach Evan until he was old enough to explore it on his own.”

Mother moved then, finding four teacups and a saucer. She also moved around the other cabinets, pulling out cookies and little tea cakes. There were a thousand questions swirling in my mind. And Mother was actually talking. Why? What benefit did she have in honestly sharing this all with me? She didn’t even like me.

“Why aren’t you bound from your magic?” I asked as she set up the saucer of snacks.

“Because my husband _trusts_ me,” she snapped, looking at me with a hard set in her eyes. A challenge.

I glanced down at her wrist, seeing the same type of bracelet I wore. But I could see that the sigils were fakes: mockeries of what they should have been. More decoration than useful.

Fuck her.

“Does Evan know your magic isn’t bound?” I asked.

The roll of her eyes were answer enough. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. I felt my lips curl. That was why she was sharing. Because she wanted me to keep quiet about this.

“Evan is not forgiving with this,” I continued. “If he found out, he wouldn’t let me go unbound. He would demand _yours_ be suppressed properly.”

“And my husband would agree,” Mother said, holding my gaze. “And I would submit dutifully.”

I let out a heavy breath. Of course. This wasn’t dirt. Not really. Sure, I could tell Evan, but she wasn’t connected to her magic the way I was. Not having access to it was torture for me. Every day I felt like a huge chunk of myself was missing. For Mother, it was a simple trick she could use in an emergency if needed. But she likely went most days not even thinking much about it.

“I do wonder,” Mother continued, finding four ceramic, black mugs and placing them on another tray before pressing the tea, “if you intend to stay quiet about what happened.”

Shit. Had I just played ignorant, she might not have brought that up. But I had challenged her. And it was clear she was the only one who had dirt on the other. She knew my secret, and she could let that cat out of the bag at any time to punish me.

“I want to,” I admitted. Why lie? “I don’t want to tell him.”

“Hmm,” Mother hummed, pouring the tea.

She didn’t say anything else. Once she was done, she placed the press in the sink—to clean later, I assumed—and arranged the cups prettily.

“You carry the food; I’ll take care of these.”

“Why do you two live here alone?” I asked, not wanting this moment over. Not yet. Not until I could figure out what her play was going to be.

Mother looked at me, her eyes sympathetic. “It will be your home someday. You and Evan.”

“Alone?”

She nodded, looking around the kitchen. “My husband’s grandfather built this house himself. It was supposed to house the leadership’s entire family: every generation. The children who wouldn’t ascend would marry as normal; but the heir would live here with the old leadership.

“It wasn’t until my husband came of age that he started the tradition of marrying like everyone else. No individual wedding, and no escaping families. At least not at first. We spent our first seven years together in a house like yours with three other couples. It wasn’t until his father passed and he became Father that we moved in here. Evan intends to do the same.”

“It’s a big house for just us,” I muttered.

“I would remain. And I’m sure you’ll have plenty of children to make it feel smaller.”

I nodded, half listening.

“I don’t want to tell him.”

“No one is forcing you, child.”

“You’re lording it over me.”

“I’m doing no such thing. I never said I would tell him.”

I didn’t believe her. “I don’t believe you.”

“I am many things,” Mother said, her voice tight, “but a liar is not one of them.”

Mother turned to me full body then, her back straight and a fury in her eyes that I was sure only came from a mother’s love.

“I have no clue what he sees in you,” she said, rather unkindly. Enough to make me physically wince. “You should hear him gush about you when you are not around. He is so infatuated with you. He truly finds you interesting. Amazing. _Smart_. And yet here you are, so determined to remain distant from him. Do you even know anything about your husband aside from his name? Do you even care to know?”

I felt fury tear through me as well, my magic stirring and setting my skin on fire. I embraced it: God, how I missed this.

“You’ll forgive me,” I said through clenched teeth, “for not wanting to bond with my fucking rapist.”

Mother scoffed, shaking her head.

“God save my son from his foreign whore of a wife,” she jeered. “Such a pretty victim. So helpless and weak. You only have so many options. You either don’t tell him and he finds out eventually, and then he’ll be angry you kept that secret. Or you speak up, admit what has happened, and you show him he has reason to trust you.”

“And what do I gain by earning his trust?” I demanded.

“You get to stop being a victim.” Mother paused, looking me up and down. “He’ll find out before you get the chance to try to escape with your powers. So how this goes down is on you. Now, the snacks, _child_.”

And with the grace and ease of a gazelle, she grabbed the saucer with the tea and headed out the room. I took a deep breath in, then out, before grabbing the tray and following her. Serenity and Jacob were finishing up their game once we got back, Jacob winning rather easily.

The conversation quickly turned to Jacob asking questions about what was happening, and Serenity trying to coax him into another game as a distraction. I didn’t drink the tea, nor eat the snacks. I had no appetite. After watching Jacob and Serenity play, Mother tried her hand against Jacob and won the first round. That peaked Jacob’s interest, and he focused to beat her twice before she conceded.

While I watched, I thought about what Mother had said. I hated how right she was. I hated that I knew the answer to my dilemma; I just didn’t want to do it. I wanted to keep my magic close. I played with it a bit, heating up the tea where even Serenity questioned how it was still warm, and moving chess pieces when no one was looking. Just because I could.

I had power. And Mother wanted me to willingly give it up. Why? Just to show Evan I could be trusted? I wasn’t silly enough to think he’d reward me with letting me go without the suppressor. So what was I gaining?

“And another one!” Serenity said, smiling as she claimed another pawn from Jacob. “I’m going to win this time.”

Jacob didn’t say anything, but I could tell he didn’t believe that. Some girls from the kitchen came with plates, which we ate while Serenity and Jacob continued. It did look like Serenity was winning: she was claiming a lot of Jacob’s pawns, as well as a knight and both rooks.

Jacob calmly and easily moved his pieces though, not studying nearly as long as Serenity did before moving. It was odd seeing him so calm and focused. Since coming to the Willows, he seemed like a ball of energy, ready to rage and destroy anything in his path without any regard. But now, he had a goal: and nothing was getting in his way. He wouldn’t succumb to Serenity’s taunts, nor Mother’s suggestions.

Then Jacob moved his queen into a position, in a straight line to Serenity’s king.

“Checkmate,” he declared.

“What?” Serenity yelled, staring at the board. Sure enough, her king couldn’t move a single spot without getting taken.

Mother chuckled while Jacob started resetting the board.

“Chess is about the long game, dear. You’re too shortsighted.”

I let out a breath. I had an idea.

We heard a door open, and Mother was on her feet in an instant. Serenity and Jacob glanced at each other, though I stood up as well. We could hear voices: Father and Evan, as well as Mike.

“…best to just go home.”

“It’s late, Evan. They’re already here.”

“We should stick to our routine,” Mike pipped up. “Ren gets anxious otherwise.”

There was a sigh as the husbands came into sight, pausing to look at us. Father entered first, smiling at Jacob and Serenity with the chessboard in front of them.

“Glad to see you had something to keep yourself entertained,” he said, wrapping an arm around Mother’s waist. “You all ate?”

“Yes,” Mother answered for us. “I saw to it.”

“Wonderful.”

“Let’s go home,” Evan said to us. “Thank you, Mother, for entertaining them while we sorted this out.”

“Of course. I assume he’s in the hot box for now?”

“Declan? Yes. He’s been stressed with the church project and _other events_.” Evan paused to look at Jacob at that. He was obviously referencing Jacob’s escape attempt. “He needs some alone time and prayer. Speaking of which, Jacob. I hate to put you on house arrest again, but some of your peers want to help you during this time so you’re not isolated. Okay?”

Jacob nodded, obviously not knowing what that meant. Evan looked satisfied at that before turning to me. He didn’t look happy then.

“Ren, let’s go,” Mike said, gesturing for Serenity to get up. “Jacob, you too.”

They moved, getting up and thanking Mother and Father before following Mike out of the room. Mother and Father moved to sit down where Jacob and Serenity had just been. They didn’t say anything; just sat down and watched Evan and I stare at each other.

“You disobeyed me today,” Evan said evenly.

I felt my heart pick up speed.

“I’m not apologizing for it,” I told him.

Evan nodded. Once.

He then closed the distance between us, gripping my chin hard enough to make me wince. I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t prepare for the slap across my cheek. I wanted to recoil away from him: I’d never been hit before all this. My parents never spanked me, never beat me, not even a pop on the mouth.

Evan knew to be frugal with hitting me; if he did it too often, I’d grow used to it. And I was sure he could tell I wasn’t used to it. Hitting me got its desired affect: my attention and my obedience.

“I’m still not apologizing,” I said, my voice a bit frantic. I took a quick breath, glancing at Mother—her and Father—watching us. “But I need to tell you something. _Now_.”

Evan started to say something, but a glance over at his parents made him stop. I kept my eyes on Evan, so I wasn’t sure what made him stop. But he did.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice a gentle rumbling that was definitely a warning.

I didn’t speak, instead moving my hand to my other wrist. To the bracelet. I was able to easily slide it off; something I’d tried and failed to do numerous times when Evan wasn’t around. I knew it was magic that kept it all but glued to my wrist. And I knew that I wasn’t supposed to be able to take it off. And when I lifted it for Evan to see, I could tell from the flash of anger in his eyes that I had been right on that assumption.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

He was pissed.

“I didn’t—” I stopped that line, not wanting to come off too defensive. “It happened when you and Declan were arguing. Something broke the sigil and so the seal—”

“When you used your magic on Declan,” Father interrupted. We turned, watching him nod sagely. “I felt it too: you were too wild with your attack then, Evan. You could have done a lot of harm to Andres and the other wives near him than just breaking the seal on his suppressor.”

Evan didn’t look happy to be admonished by his father, but he did nod and accept it. He turned to me, grabbing the bracelet. Thinking. I let him, waiting for what was about to happen next.

“I don’t have another one at home,” he thought out loud. “I can work on it tomorrow to try to fix it.”

I felt my heart drop. How didn’t he see it? It was so obvious where it broke. It was obvious it had been weak there. If I had been allowed to examine it before he bound me, I would have seen the thin kink of magic that didn’t connect the sigils.

Why was he making me do this?

“It’s—” I started, really not wanting to do this. “It’s an easy fix. If you want me to show you.”

Evan raised an eyebrow at me, and I could feel Father and Mother hold their breath. I was holding my breath myself. I didn’t want to show Evan. I felt stupid for even considering it. But if Mother was allowed to walk around unbound because Father trusted her, I had to get Evan to trust me. It was just the first step, but it was important.

“We can’t trust he’ll tell the truth,” Mother said, breaking the silence with what everyone was thinking.

“Without trust, there is no faith,” Evan said, his eyes on me. “Without faith, there is nothing.”

He sounded like he was reciting something. It even sounded familiar. It wasn’t until another second of silence followed that I realized it was something Father said often during church on Sundays. It was also emphasized in the Bible study classes I spent a lot of mornings before lunch sitting through. We were told to trust and have faith in our husbands as we would God.

I had no faith in God; I only had faith in myself.

“Show me,” Evan commanded.

I nodded, taking the bracelet from him, and standing at his side as I held it up in front of him. I pointed to where it broke, the lines so close they almost looked like they were still connected.

“Right there,” I said. “The magic was too focused at this point.” I pointed to another end. “I guess because this one was the sigil to bind my magic, but this sigil is what forces it to stay on me. But they’re connected here—”

“I know how the sigils work, Andres,” Evan calmly told me.

I shrugged. “I didn’t. But there wasn’t enough powering this part. It’s the fact that it’s bound to my body that allows it to bind my magic. So if this part breaks, it stops the spell entirely. Maybe whatever you did to Declan moved it a bit?”

“So it needs to be mended and reinforced there,” Evan said, taking the bracelet from me. He started working magic through it, reattaching the sigils and then feeding energy and intention through them.

But he was still wasn’t focusing his magic right. Thinking back to what Father said—about Evan’s magic being too wild—I realized that Evan must not be good at precision. He didn’t know how to focus his energy at a specific point. That was why there had been that wave when he used his magic on Declan.

“You’re still feeding it through the entire thing,” I said, placing a hand over his. “You have to reinforce where it broke, then fortify it. Like this.”

“Oh,” Evan said, after a few minutes of that. “I see. Here.”

When he took over again, he was doing it exactly like I had. That surprised me. He didn’t seem to be feeling where I was moving the magic. But he caught on so quickly. That usually only happened if—

“Evan’s genius wife is also a genius magician,” Mother sneered. “How lucky.”

“Mother,” Evan scolded.

She didn’t speak again, and I was grateful for it. Evan finished with the bracelet, and I could see it was stronger than before. Not just fixed, but better. Evan held out his hand.

Waiting.

I stared at it for a second before realizing what he wanted me to do. I considered arguing that I obviously didn’t need it: I’d been with my magic all this time and didn’t use it. I even told him about the suppressor breaking! I even thought about blowing Mother’s cover, just to show that it can be done.

But this was about trust. I wouldn’t gain Evan’s trust by showing how little I trusted him. This wasn’t going to be overnight, but I needed his trust. So I reached forward, putting my hand in his. I was tense, but I didn’t move nor protest when he slid the bracelet back on.

This time, I felt a sharp pull as the bracelet bound to my body, feeling my magic and then shutting off my connection to it. The heat and energy were gone.

I was weak again.

Evan held my hands a little, and I felt heat in them. I wondered if he was using his magic. Like this, I really couldn’t tell. But he was warmer than usual.

“No reaction,” he said, looking at his parents. “He was telling the truth.”

Mother just gave a tight smile while Father seemed generally pleased with everything.

“The places the Lord leads us to when we have faith,” he said.

“Agreed. We’re going to head out now. Good night, Father. Mother.”

They said their goodbyes and Evan held my hand as he led me outside. I was trying to convince myself that I hadn’t made a stupid mistake. It was okay to show Evan that, right? This wasn’t going to bite me in the ass later, right? Was earning his trust worth giving up my one chance of freedom?

I let out a shaky breath. Only if I genuinely thought this would be my only chance at it.

Which I did not.

“Could you see what I was doing?” I asked as we made our way back home, the sun setting pleasantly on the compound. “Like, the magic moving?”

He nodded. “It’s always looked like white cords. I could see how it was moving.”

Oh, shit. That meant Evan was a lot inepter than I’d previously thought: his potential was almost infinite. But here at the Willows, he had no one to truly show him how to hone his abilities. He could move mountains, but the Willows taught him that only God could do that. At most, Evan might manage shaking a hill. 

His potential was terrifying, but the fact that he had no understanding of it was going to be my biggest asset.

“They look like colorful lines to me,” I shared. “It’s not common, being able to see magic.”

“Hmm,” Evan hummed. He seemed like he was about to say something. Considered it. When he spoke, I knew it was him deciding to just say it. “Growing up, my parents thought I was lying about it. That it was my child’s imagination. I stopped saying I saw the cords eventually. I thought maybe it _was_ just my imagination.”

“It’s not,” I assured him. “Some people are so attuned to magic that they literally see it as easily as the sky or the grass. No offense to your parents,” I added before he could think I was insulting them. “But I honestly wouldn’t expect anyone from the Nation to be able to see it. Especially not enough people to believe it if someone else could.”

“But even in Faust City, not everyone can see it?”

I shook my head. “Not everyone. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re better or stronger: just that we have an easier time grasping it. Because we can see it, we understand it better. And it’s easier to replicate spells from watching.”

Evan nodded, taking that in. “It’s a shame the magic there is so twisted and perverse. Sounds like it’d be interesting to learn more about city magic.”

I smirked. “Magic is as ‘pure’ or ‘perverse’ as you make it. I’m sure even the magic you and your father do was once thought of the same way.” 

Evan stopped suddenly, tugging me close to him. I tensed, expecting him to hit me. Instead, he leaned down and kissed me, passionately and lovingly. I relaxed my body and waited it out, sure the other shoe was going to drop. Maybe Evan saw through me, and knew what I was trying to do. Maybe I was the fool for thinking I wasn’t being obvious.

When he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against mine, I kept my eyes closed. The cool night air stirred around us, reminding us how alone we were in this moment. No one around to see us. No one to perform for.

I wondered, briefly, if Evan found it as exhausting as I did. The lack of privacy. The way we were always being watched by someone. Judged on how solid of a couple we appeared to be. Everyone picking us apart, wondering if we were worthy of being the next leadership.

I never wanted this. Still didn’t. And, ideally, I would get out before that happened.

Evan may have been born for this, but I was not.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, his voice as fleeting as the wind. “I’m pleasantly surprised that you told me what happened with the suppressor.”

“I didn’t want to,” I admitted, my voice also soft.

“I know.”

I nodded. Of course, he did.

“But I did it anyway.”

He rewarded me with another kiss, albeit a quick one.

“I love you.”

I froze, my eyes fluttering open as I looked up at him, confused. Had he ever said that to me before? I racked my brain. He hadn’t. This was the first time. And I knew I should respond with the same, but I couldn’t. The words tasted like ashes, scalding hot and nauseating. I looked up at him, watching him watch me.

He had meant it too. I could tell from the sweet look in his eyes. He knew this was the first time he said it to me.

He always had to somehow throw me for a loop.

“I…” my voice trailed off. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t. I’m not ready. Please—”

“Shhh,” he hushed me, kissing me again. It didn’t help soothe the panic rising inside me. “I didn’t say it so you’d say it back. I know you’ll be ready one day, _mi sol_. I have faith in where the Lord will take us.”

I nodded. Fine. Let him think that. And let me agree with him. Let him believe that I wanted to love him. Would try to love him. Let him think that I was ready to spend the rest of my life with him as his obedient, happy wife. If I had to, I would even lie one day and tell him I loved him too.

He was not going to win. My powers were bound now, but he would remove this stupid bracelet himself one day. He would free me; even let me walk around free like his mother does. And when he was sure I was settled into my role as his wife, I would make my escape then.

It didn’t matter how many pawns he took from me: I was going to win the long game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised the weekly uploads were back! Lol. 
> 
> Rereading this was a DOOZY. So many seeds sown. So many plot points I will drop. Lol jkjk (kinda). 
> 
> I'm actually kinda pissed I wrote this. I originally was going to have Andres keep it a secret for a while, but he already has one really big secret he's keeping from Evan. I think Andres is nuts trying for the long game, but he's better than me. We'll see how it lands. 
> 
> I kinda forgot about Declan tbqh lol. The chapters I have written so far don't feature him, which is fine because not a lot of time has passed in the Willows. But, still, I should probably bring him back, right? He DOES come back. How he behaves afterwards....hmmm...we'll see I guess! 
> 
> The hot box was an informal term. That's not what it's called. It's just a building away from his home he's been taken to. To do what, you ask? As cliched as it sounds, keep reading to find out? Lol. 
> 
> Halloween is near! I feel like it snuck up on me. I feel like I never get to really go crazy for Halloween. This month, as I'm sure you guys realized, has been rough for me. So time has been spinning by. I'm just happy to press through work tomorrow and get that extra hour of sleep this weekend lol. 
> 
> Since I was too lazy to do a proper costume, I bought an among us hoodie that looks like the spacesuits the crewmates wear lol. My company is doing a Halloween decorating contest with the outer office (where I work) versus our phone operators. So our theme is a haunted high school. My department is the year book committee, and so we all had to decorate these poster boards to look like polaroids, kinda, and pick a Most XXX thing to be. Like how in yearbooks, you have "Most popular/most likely to succeed/most creative/etc. And mine is "most sus(picious)." Lol. Get it? Cuz maybe I'm crewmate, maybe I'm imposter! 
> 
> Have I talked about Among Us and how much I'm OBSESSED with this game! Tbqh, buying the hoodie for a Halloween "costume" was a good excuse to just buy an among us hoodie lol. I don't think anyone will get it. I kept telling my coworker, whose kids play it (lol shut up), and I kept saying "I'm going to be most sus" and she seemed so unimpressed. And the other day, yesterday even?, my one coworker called my extension (I'm in a separate room than the rest of my department due to covid lol), like "what are you doing?" And I was like, "I told XXX like ten times what I was doing." And she was like "oh," and I was like "I think she thinks I'm not serious, but I am" lol. 
> 
> People will one day learn that I mean what I say. 
> 
> Anyway, maybe I'll do another upload for Halloween. I'm in a good mood. Why not? See you all on Saturday, I guess? 
> 
> As always, please leave comments. And thank you for sticking with me!


	49. Chapter 49

“Tomorrow?”

I smiled at the young woman walking by me to go into the room. It had been a couple of weeks since I showed up at the support group at the IRRC. I had been so busy with planning my move that I had to forgo it. But after five days of moving, unpacking, and trying to figure out how to organize my new house, I was ready to get out of it. I needed a break.

But I had gotten a call right before I walked in. Jenn.

I walked down the hall, waving at Douglas. He was so pregnant that he looked ready to burst. He was due next month if I could recall. I wondered if he would go early. Once I was a bit more alone, I leaned against the wall and waited for Jenn’s answer.

“Yes,” she said, sounding tired. “We made closing statements today, and the judges want you all in then.”

“Is Serenity coming back?”

“No. Which is what it is. There was no order to keep you all here, so you were always free to move around. But considering that, you and Jacob should still show up.”

I frowned. “Is Jacob showing up?”

“He asked for the time and didn’t really say one way or another. But—”

“If he asked for the time, he’ll be there.” He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he’d be there. I sighed. “So what time?”

“Ten-thirty. Want to get it done and over with before lunch, I expect.”

“How do you think they’ll rule?” I asked. Because I had to. I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t have some sort of reassurance that all of this wasn’t going to blow up in our faces.

“Oh, absolutely on our end. I think seeing how active all three of you are in moving past this really disregarded the arguments the Willows was trying to make. Mike might have a case for custody, though, but with Serenity being out of the country; that’s entirely between the Nation and England’s courts to decide.”

I nodded, feeling better. “Perfect. Thank you, Jenn.”

“No problem. I’m sure you’re ready for this to be over. See you tomorrow. For the last time.”

I said goodbye and hung up, watching Shawn walk up. He seemed surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I said, putting my phone away. “Long time no see.”

“Seriously,” he said, smiling. “And here I thought you got sick of us.”

“Nah. The move just took up all of my free time.”

“Oh! Right! How did it go?”

“Still settling in. It’s going to take a while. How have you been?”

“Same ole,” he said, shrugging. We started walking back to the room where everyone was gathering for group. “My brother got out last week. It’s nice having him back home.”

“Oh wow. Congrats. Is he managing okay?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. He already has a few interviews for some job prospects. One of them is a music teacher at a performing arts school.”

“He plays an instrument?”

“Kinda. He sings, really. He can play piano too, but he’d be doing vocal lessons.”

“That’s cool. Sounds like a good fit.”

“Yeah. I hope he gets it. He seems like he’ll be okay with the other ones, but I can tell he really wants this one.”

“Andres! Welcome back!”

Tish was standing by the snack table, a paper plate filled to the top with cheese, crackers, and, and fruit. She was looking immaculate in her flowy, yellow dress. Her short hair was growing out a bit, and still a pretty honey blonde.

“Hey,” I said to her while I looked around. “I see some newbies.”

“Oh yeah. Always. How are you? Going to come back to work soon?”

“Probably next week. I just got caught up with moving.”

“Oh! Congrats. The day I move is the day I know my art career has taken off.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Tish worked at Rouge, which meant she lived at the brothel. I wasn’t sure how all that would work if she wanted to move out. It would mean she would be quitting, probably.

Still, I stole a grape from her plate as she filled me in on all I’d missed over the last few weeks. She followed me as I went to the circle, sitting next to Shawn, Tish on my other side. Lucca was there, sitting next to Elizabeth and looking at something on her phone. When he noticed me, he smiled and gave me a wave.

“Okay,” Elizabeth said after a while, looking around at everyone and smiling. “Let’s get started.”

Douglas, of course, started everything off with an update on himself: after weeks of his shadowing people, he decided to move forward with becoming a vet assistant. He had enrolled in an education program that would be starting in the fall, with a work study that would provide housing for him and his baby. One of the women he always sat next to offered to help with childcare as she claimed she remembered how hard it was studying in the evenings without help. Douglas almost cried at the offer.

Shawn talked a bit about his brother being home; how odd it was having him around again. An adjustment. He wondered if it was selfish for him to want to have his own place, which everyone affirmed was not the case at all. A couple of the newbies I didn’t recognize spoke: one girl was interested in working at a tarot shop, and the older woman was contemplating an abortion.

It was nice hearing about everyone else’s lives for a change. Lately, I felt mine had been so all-consuming that I wanted to throw it all away at times. Group was nice because I got to be reminded that there were other people who went through the same thing as me. We were all just trying our best. It was affirming.

“How about you, Andres?” Elizabeth said at one point. “It’s been a while since we saw you. Any updates?”

I shrugged, telling them about the move. Douglas had been interested in that, asking how it felt now that I was on my own. When I told them that I wouldn’t be alone for long, that I had a boyfriend who would be moving in some time over the summer, they were surprised. In retrospect, I never mentioned Lyle before that. Shawn joked how lucky my boyfriend was, which got everyone laughing and breaking the tension a bit.

“Oh,” I added, remembering my earlier conversation with Jenn. “Tomorrow is the verdict on my case.”

Everyone went serious at that.

“Oh wow,” the woman in the hijab said, no baby today. “How do you feel about that?”

I wasn’t sure. Honestly. “A bit concerned. My lawyer is sure it’ll go in our favor, but there’s still that small chance.”

“Would they make you go back?” Douglas asked, his face frowned up in consternation. “If you lose?”

“Maybe,” I said, feeling my heart race a bit. “But I guess I could always appeal it. I’d just hate to have this dragged out anymore. I want to be done.”

Lucca looked up suddenly, his eyes behind me at the door.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked.

Everyone turned, looking to see who he was talking to. I felt my heart drop, watching the young boy with a very round belly shake his head. To everyone else, he was a stranger. A young former surrogate, pregnant and looking for help. But I recognized his dark skin, his fluffy and messy afro, and the shyly ditzy smile he gave everyone watching him.

Shiloh.

What the fuck was he doing here? Now? He’d obviously not been there before; Lucca didn’t recognize him. Josh must have sent him. They must have been tracking me; Evan did know what my car looked like. The spells around my house would have protected my location, but once I left my street, anyone with even the base understanding of tracking spells could find me.

And why not send Shiloh? Despite everything, I loved Shiloh. He had been my closest friend at the Willows. He wasn’t even wearing the Willows’ white, instead wearing normal maternity pants and a light, brown jacket over his green button up shirt. They’d even dress him up in regular clothes so no one would suspect him for the double agent they were using him as.

All just to fuck with me.

“No, thank you,” he said, trying to easy away. “I just think I’m lost, is all.”

“Why don’t you sit down and rest your feet?” Elizabeth asked gently, gesturing to an empty chair not far from where Shiloh was standing. “Then afterwards, we’ll see about helping you on your way.”

“Um,” Shiloh said, obviously looking for a way out. His eyes looked around the circle, nervous.

Even if he were told what to do, he would still be nervous. Shiloh would be completely out of his element here. And it was brilliant. Because his response was genuine, no one would question what he was there for.

Then his eyes met mine. There was a pause, and then recognition spreading to his face. I frowned, making sure he knew I wasn’t happy to see him. Not at all. But he nodded enthusiastically, walking in slowly and settling down into a chair.

“Excellent,” Elizabeth said with a smile. She turned back to me. “Andres, you were saying?”

I pretended I couldn’t feel Shiloh’s eyes on me.

“Nothing,” I said. “I was finished. I just want this all to be over.”

“Have you thought much about the after?” Elizabeth asked. “How the Willows will respond, or—”

“I’ll worry about it after tomorrow,” I said bluntly, shrugging at her.

Elizabeth watched me, a bit confused. But something in the hardness of my gaze must have made her realize that I wasn’t kidding when I said I was finished for the day. I could feel Tish and Shawn watching me cautiously, obviously sensing the change in my vibe.

Thankfully, everyone was smart enough to let it be. Elizabeth asked if anyone else wanted to speak, and the conversation turned to one of the new girl’s own case. I couldn’t focus on what anyone else was saying. All I could do was try my hardest not to look at Shiloh, pretend I couldn’t see him, sense him, sitting so close to me.

After another half hour of that, group was over. Usually, I hung back and chatted with Shawn or Tish or anyone else. A few people always stayed behind to finish off the snack table. And I still wasn’t in a rush to go home to my mess of a house.

But I had to get the fuck out of the room.

So as soon as everyone started to gather their things, I was up and out the door immediately. I quickly strode down the hall, emptying into the lobby with the main entrance in sight. I could leave and—

A thought stopped me dead in my tracks. If Shiloh was here, wouldn’t it stand to reason that Josh would be as well? Was he in the building, or outside waiting for me? Would he and a bunch of people from the Willows try to abduct me? If they also thought they were going to lose the case, wouldn’t they just do that? Just take me and force me back?

I couldn’t breathe. I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out my phone. Should I call my dad? Or Lyle? No, Lyle was back in Canada. He’d be back tomorrow, after the hearing, but I couldn’t ask him to skip another day of work and hop on a red eye again. My hands were shaking as I tried to find my father’s contact. I needed to get out. I had to—

“Andres.”

I turned, Lucca slowing down in front of me. It almost looked like he chased me. I must have had a look on my face because he immediately frowned, concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just need to get home.”

Lucca watched me fumble with my phone again for a few seconds.

“You drove, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, half listening.

“Then why not just leave? Who are you calling?”

“No one. My dad maybe. I don’t know.”

“You got weird when that boy came in. Do you know him?”

My phone practically leaped out of my hands, hitting the floor with a thud. Thankfully, I had gotten a case to prevent it from cracking. Still, my hands were shaking. I watched them as Lucca bent down to pick up my phone. He saw my hands as well.

“You do know him.” This time, it wasn’t a question.

“He’s from the Willows,” I said, rubbing my hands together in an effort to get them to stop shaking. “His name is Shiloh. He was—I mean, I don’t know. He was the closest thing I had to a friend there.”

Lucca nodded, understanding immediately. “You think someone sent him here to get at you?”

“Yes!” I practically screamed. I placed a hand over my mouth, trying to calm down. I couldn’t. “I want to go home, but they could have set up an ambush. I just need to get away—”

“Andres.”

Lucca snapped around as we watched Shiloh slowly, and cautiously, approach. I took a step back, glancing at the doors. I felt cornered despite there being a lot of places I could run: the IRRC was pretty big, and there were lots of hallways I could go down. Still, with the threat of an ambush behind me and Shiloh in front of me, I was trapped.

“Would you mind giving him some space?” Lucca asked, not unkindly, before Shiloh could get too close. “He needs air.”

Shiloh looked at me then at Lucca. He looked so confused. Puzzled. They may not have even told him why they were sending him into the IRRC. He might not have any idea what was waiting for me if I left.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Lucca as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just-I know Andres.”

“From the Willows,” Lucca finished. “Yes. I know.”

“Yes! I mean, we’re friends is all. I didn’t expect to see him here. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, you said it. You need to give Andres some space now. You can go home.”

Shiloh bit his lip, looking around. “I, um, kinda can’t.”

“Why not?” I snapped. “Who sent you here?”

Shiloh met my eyes, confusion and hurt heavy in his gaze. “Sent? I found this place. I mean, a really nice woman told me about it.”

“What nice woman? Mother?”

Shiloh looked really confused then. He looked at Lucca, still standing sort of between us.

“I don’t know where I am,” Shiloh said to him. “I would go home, especially if I’m making Andres uncomfortable, but I don’t know how to get home.”

“How did you get here?” Lucca asked, now confused. “Did someone drop you off?”

“Why are you even here?” I demanded. “You testified weeks ago. Why are you still in the city?”

Shiloh hesitated, looking between me and Lucca. His shoulders fell, his hand coming to rest on his round stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his apology making my heart drop. Was he about to admit to the double cross? “Josh said we can’t leave until we bring you and others home. We’ve been staying at the church.”

“The church?” Lucca asked. “Which church?”

“The Willows has a sister church in the French Quarter,” I explained. “I found out about a month ago.”

“I don’t like being here,” Shiloh insisted then. “I could move around and work at the Willows. I can’t do anything here. All I can do is sit at the church and pray. I just wanted, I don’t know, a change of scenery? I know I shouldn’t have left, but I thought if I just went for a walk down the street and back, Josh wouldn’t get mad at me.”

“You went on a walk,” I said, my voice deadpan.

Shiloh nodded, looking up at me guiltily.

“I didn’t think I’d get lost. I thought I was keeping track of where I was turning, but then I couldn’t find my way back. I thought of asking for help, but it was obvious that a lot of people were from out of town as well.

“Then I ran into this woman who seemed to know I was lost. She told me to come here; she said they’d help me. She walked with me here. It was far, but I figured maybe they could help me find the church and help me get back. Or at least call Josh for me to come get me. I—”

Shiloh cut himself off, blinking away what looked like tears. I took a few sobering breaths. I didn’t want to be mad at Shiloh. I wanted to believe him. And I definitely didn’t want to make him cry. But I couldn’t accept any of this. Shiloh would be my downfall: his weakness would make _me_ weak.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you,” he continued, looking back at me. “When I did, I really just wanted to say hi. I wasn’t going to convince you to come back or anything. I know you don’t want to. You just—” he cut himself off again. His eyes hardened a bit, and looked down at the ground when he spoke. “You just didn’t say anything before you left. I just wanted to talk to you again.”

“I don’t believe a word of that,” I told him. Rudely. “Even if that story is true, someone knew to send you here. I’m sure Josh knows where you are.”

“I don’t…” Shiloh started, before his hand moved to fiddle with the smartwatch I only just then realized he was wearing. “Maybe he does know. I’ve had to wear this since we got here. I think he said it has a GPS.”

“He knows he’s here,” I said to Lucca. “They know I volunteer here. Evan knows my schedule. Even with me being off it, there’s no way they’re not on their way here. _If_ they’re not here already.”

“Okay, calm down,” Lucca said to me, obviously trying to figure out what to do. “I’ll walk you to your car. But before that, I want to find someone to stay here with him.” He looked at Shiloh, who was glancing between us both guiltily. “Let me see your watch.”

Shiloh held out his watch while Lucca played with it a bit. I wasn’t sure why, but I was momentarily distracted as a few people from group came out into the lobby, Shawn among them. He looked at us, surprised.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were still here,” he said to me while the rest said their goodbyes and headed for the door. “What’s going on?”

“Lucca needs an escort to his car,” Lucca answered, pulling out his phone. He scanned something on Shiloh’s watch with the phone’s camera, nodding. “You said Josh is your husband?”

“Yes,” Shiloh answered dutifully.

“Why do you need an escort?” Shawn asked, now concerned.

“It’s a long story,” I said, getting an idea. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He glanced at Lucca. “I’m not much of a fighter, though.”

“It’s fine,” I said. Then I spoke up so Lucca could hear me. “I’ll have Shawn with me. I’ll be fine getting home. Thanks.”

Lucca nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait until you’re gone to call his husband to get him. He’ll get home okay.”

I nodded, looking at Shiloh one last time. He looked so confused, upset, and hurt. He really was just a pawn in all of this. Josh had no reason to keep Shiloh in the city all this time. Even if he insisted on staying here, I was sure the other wives who testified against us were all back at the Willows.

Despite my love for Shiloh, he was only here to hurt me. To put doubt in my heart. I couldn’t allow that.

“I’m sorry,” he said one last time. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I didn’t answer. Just turned on my heel, heading for the door. As I walked, I muttered in Spanish, asking for Olodumare’s blessing as I called on Eleguá and Ogun. I focused the energy into a point, right on my fingertips. I paused at the door, watching Shawn catch up to me, confused.

“What is going on? Do you know that kid?”

“You need to stay next to me in case we’re walking into a trap,” I answered.

“A trap? What?”

“Shiloh is from the Willows. I don’t know if someone planted him here, or if he did just happen to stumble here. But if it’s the former, they might be waiting for us. For me.”

Shawn frowned, but nodded. “Okay. You got a plan?”

I held up my hand. “I already casted the spell. If I snap, anyone around us will be paralyzed. But you need to stay close, so the spell doesn’t accidentally hit you.”

“Ah. Okay. Let’s go.”

“Sorry to pull you into this,” I added, my hand on the door.

Shawn smiled. “Your pussy might not have been good enough to kill me, but it’s decent enough to make me risk my life.”

I snorted, opening the door. Aside from a few passersby, there was no one waiting for us. And as we made our way down the steps, around the corner, and in the lot where I parked, no one leaped out at us. I scanned every nook and cranny, and when I got to my car, I ran magic through it to make sure it wasn’t tampered with.

Only once Shawn and I were inside and I started the car without any issues, and I rode around the lot twice to test the breaks, did I relax. Shawn was wary through it, but as we turned into the street, heading towards the 7th ward, did he finally relax.

“Well,” he said, flashing me a toothy grin. “That was uneventful.”

“Thankfully,” I agreed.

A part of me felt bad for how I treated Shiloh now. He didn’t deserve that. He likely had been telling the truth: Shiloh wasn’t particularly good at lying. Especially not with a story that convoluted.

Still, it was too big a coincidence for me to take it as just that. And I wasn’t going to feel sorry for that.

I had to fight like hell to get out of the Willows. I was not going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit anti-climatic, I'll admit, but that was just this time. I kinda got really tense when Shiloh showed up. Did you? What do you think? Do you think Josh sent him there purposely, or that he really stumbled there by accident? 
> 
> This ended up later than I intended. My computer was acting up. It almost didn't happen at all lol. 
> 
> Ah well. I didn't do anything for Halloween. :( Maybe next year. Maybe I should just accept that I'm not a big Halloween girl, never had been, and that's okay? Hmmm. 
> 
> It was fun bringing back Shawn and Lucca and group. I didn't forget about them. Andres has just been very busy. Often times, when we get overwhelmed, we tend to not reach out like we should. Andres has still been going to therapy (at this point, I can't remember if that was mentioned in this chapter lol). But group does help in a different way. 
> 
> By the way, Elizabeth was showing Lucca a video of her cat chasing a laser pointer up her wall lol. I don't think Lucca cares much for pets, but Elizabeth loves showing off her kids and her pets. She has a black cat and two German shepherds. This will never come up again. 
> 
> I really hope you weren't disappointed that nothing happen. I blame it on not planning this shit out, because the action is really towards the last third of this godforsakenly long story, which I'm writing now. It's, uh, getting really intense and it's making it take even longer to write BECAUSE every single chapter is so intense! ;A; You guys might appreciate it, but it does take so much out of me to write them. I get through one scene and then just have to take a break for like a weak or so to mentally recover. I might need to update the tags too, so always remember to mind them! I haven't been doing as well putting warnings at the beginnings of chapters like I was with the last one (my apologies!), so I just want to make sure that you guys are prepared for the straight TRAUMA I'm writing. 
> 
> Always with a happy ending, but God is it always a journey to get there. 
> 
> Okay. That's it until Thursday! I'll see you all then! Please leave comments with your thoughts! Happy Halloween!


	50. Chapter 50

“Are you going to the graduation?”

Jacob nodded, glancing over at the other table. I was trying to distract him from the fact that Evan and Declan—Mike noticeably missing—were sitting just a couple of yards away with their lawyer. Distract from the low murmur of the spectators behind us. But Jacob could barely hear me, nor could he fake apathy with so many white clothed Willows members sitting too closely.

“I was thinking of going,” I said, conversationally, looking at the empty judges’ bench. “Since I’ll be staff next semester.”

Jacob finally looked at me, surprise in his face. “You’re going to teach at Tulane?”

I nodded, smiling. “It’s only three classes for now. I haven’t ran a class in over a year though, so I’m hoping I don’t mess it up.”

“You won’t,” Jacob said, shrugging. “You handled Gus’ lessons well enough.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment? From you?”

Jacob rolled his eyes at that, in the way a young person would to a stupid adult.

“You rambled unnecessarily when we got to topics you obviously had a lot of interest in, to the point of repetition,” he said, obviously deciding that insulting me was better. It felt better. More right. “And you always over planned your lessons, hoping to cover more than we could. Or, rather, there was no way for us to when you spent an hour gushing over nucleotides.”

“I do love nucleotides,” I said, nodding in agreement.

“You have to move on,” Jacob said, shooting a bored look at me. “Still, the energy at least kept our attention. Mine, anyway.”

“Aww, thanks, Jake,” I said, smiling. “I feel more confident now.”

Jacob nodded, glancing back at the other table before turning back to me. “I should thank you, actually.”

I blinked. “For what?”

“For getting us out,” Jacob said, his voice low. I could barely hear him. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

I felt my magic move at that, oddly giddy. I hadn’t done it to get a thanks. I did it because I knew Jacob was going to go crazy. Because he was too bright, too smart, and too young to spend the rest of his life stuck at the Willows.

Still, I smiled. Because I realized that after graduation, Jacob was leaving the city. The country. He would start a career and leave everything with the Willows behind. He would leave me behind. And while it made me feel some sort of way when I first heard it, now, I felt a sense of completion. Once the judges freed us from all this entirely, we would become strangers.

And before we did, Jacob wanted to thank me.

“Anytime,” I said, smiling. “Though it’ll be hard to do it again when you’re in England.”

“I think I can manage once I put some distance between me and these motherfuckers,” Jacob said, though he smiled.

The bailiff called for everyone to stand as the judges walked in. All five in their robes and stern faces. An older woman, probably old enough to be my grandmother, sat in the middle. As everyone sat, she peered at everyone over her half-moon spectacles. Jenn, on my other side, took a deep breath in as we all waited.

“After careful deliberation and consideration to the testimonies provided,” the woman started, her voice strong as it reverberated through the quite courtroom, “as well as taking into account the rather dramatic way this story has played out publically, we the judges of this court find in favor of the defendants.”

Jenn let out her breath in a relieved sigh, while Jacob smiled and slapped the table. I turned to look at my parents, who refused to just go to work and miss this. My mother was crying, my father rubbing her back and smiling at me. There was murmurs around us, and noises of disappointment from Declan and the Willow’s lawyer. As well as the small group of white clad people sitting behind them.

Still, there was nothing they could do. We won.

“Order in the court,” a man on the end of the judge’s stand said, frowning at all the noise. “Either quiet down or get out.”

Once everyone silenced, the man nodded back at the woman. She looked down at the paper in front of her, reading off from it.

“As ordained by the judges presiding, we’ve declared that there is no evidence of coercion, foul play, nor indoctrination to justify the plaintiffs’ appeal. All three of the defendants are currently, and at the time of their departure from the Nation, of sound mind, body, and spirit. Given the circumstances of their cohabitation with the plaintiffs during their brief tenure at the Willow’s compound, there is no evidence to suggest that the defendants preferred their marriages over their previous and current lives here in Faust City. And, in fact, they have testified profusely to preferring their current arrangements to remain intact.

“Ergo, we the judges cannot find any justification to extradite the defendants from the city, as they are here of their own will and desire. This decision has been presented and approved by the Nation’s Extradition Department of their Foreign Relations council, signed by Judge Rupert Hall-Wynn. As such, effective this day, all marriage contracts have been annulled both in Faust City and the Nation.”

Jacob let out a happy sigh at that, his smile uncharacteristically huge.

“Your honors,” Jenn said, standing, her back straight in confident. “We would like to motion for an order of protection for all three of my clients from their ex-husbands, and any active and current member of the Willows’ church.”

Two of the judges let out annoyed breaths, the one in the middle all but rolling her own eyes. They obviously were sick of this whole mess and were wanting to be done with it. Still, the woman in the middle held out her hand, and the one next to her slid her a form and a stamp.

“We will authorize a 30-day order of protection for your clients. Once the thirty days are up, if they feel they are still in danger, they will need to file for a proper restraining order. And keep in mind that can only apply to their individual ex-husbands; not an entire community of people.”

Jenn nodded, though we were all quiet about what bullshit that was. Still, a thirty-day order of protection gave me time to make sure I was safe. And it was more than enough time for Jacob to graduate and get the fuck out of the city.

It was perfect.

The Willows’ lawyer was talking to Declan and Evan. I met Evan’s eyes, his face tense as he watched me. He said something to the lawyer then, getting a look of annoyance from Declan. Still, the lawyer nodded. Evan did it all while watching me.

I turned, my mother leaning over the railing separating us in order to hug me. I hugged her back, waiting for the judges to clear everyone else out of the room so we could finally leave all this bullshit behind us.

~*~

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on this side of town at night before,” Blue said, smiling as her date, a bartender named Maggie, who had the night off, pulled her down Bourbon Street. “It’s filled with tourists!”

“Exactly,” Kelvin muttered not far in front of where Lyle and I were pulling up the rear.

Lyle rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright. I get it. I’m a loser tourist. I’ll work on that once I actually move here.”

Blue and Maggie laughed, watching guys on balconies throw beads to any girl willing to flash them. Kelvin seemed particularly annoyed with Lyle’s remark about moving to the city, and dipped into a bar after saying something about finding us later.

I tried not to get annoyed: I finally had a talk with Kelvin about how distant he’d been since Lyle and I started dating. He, of course, denied it, saying he was just busy with work and looking for a new apartment since his lease was up and he got into it with his roommates. He tried not to sound irritated over having to get a place for himself, and he did agree to go out with us to celebrate the verdict in my case.

 _And_ he promised to be fun.

But he’d spent the night so far being a sourpuss, drinking more than any of us at the bars we were hopping, and mumbling to himself not as quietly as he thought he was being. I was well over his bad attitude at this point, and if he needed a moment drinking alone to compose himself, then he could do that.

“We should go to Rouge!” Blue said, pointing in a random direction. “I wouldn’t mind a threesome right now!”

I thought of Tish and wondered if that would be awkward.

“What is Rouge?” Lyle asked as Blue pulled out her phone to try to find out how far we were from it. I was pretty sure it wasn’t even in the French Quarter.

“A brothel,” Maggie said, sniggering as she watched Blue struggle to search for the street.

“So those really _are_ legal here?” Lyle asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, this is supposed to be the City of Sin for a reason.”

“Exactly!” Blue said, her words slurring only a bit. “And I’m looking to sin so hard Jesus comes down from heaven personally to toss me into hell.”

“It’s outside the Garden District, babe,” Maggie told her, pointing to something on her phone. “You’re not going to make it there if we have to walk.”

“Shit,” Blue said, frowning. “Well, there goes that plan.”

I smiled at Maggie, mouthing a thank you for not reminding Blue that we could easily hop on a streetcar and get there in about half an hour. She nodded, looking at what appeared to be a regular Irish bar.

“Oh, let’s try here,” she said, pulling Blue alongside her. “I heard good things about them.”

“Checking out the competition?” Lyle asked her as we followed.

Maggie smirked. “No need to. Bartenders aren’t that competitive. It’s less about how good you are at mixing drinks and more about how good you are at keeping everyone under control.”

The bar was pretty packed, which was probably normal given the time of night. It was creeping on midnight, and there was plenty of jazz music on the street to keep people going all night. I wondered how anyone could live in the French Quarter when the nights were like this: streets packed with lights and musicians, tourists screaming as they looked for strangers to flash, dealers looking to lure in unsuspecting clients with drugs that were illegal even in Faust City.

It was chaotic; a good place to be nobody for the night, get wild, and then wake up with memories of that one wild night of your life. No wonder tourists loved it.

Maggie led us to the bar, and she flagged down a bartender with snakebites on his lower lips.

“Enjoying the city?” he asked, his eyes looking Maggie up and down. I frowned as I leaned against the counter. He had bad taste if he wanted to flirt with her over me.

“We ain’t no tourists,” Maggie said haughtily, tossing back her curly hair. “Looking for some gold diggers to take home.”

The bartender blinked at her before straightening and looking around. He gave a nod, gesturing with his finger for us to go down to the end of the bar. Maggie looked at us with a smile, grabbing Blue’s hand again as she led us to the end of the bar. The bartender was there in front of a door. He opened it, waving us through.

“Thanks, doll,” Maggie said as she went through the door.

“Where does this go?” Lyle asked as I followed.

“Who knows?” I said, feeling a bit giddy.

Lyle held me back, the bartender frowning at our hesitation.

“And you’re just going to go through without knowing?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Didn’t you just meet this Maggie chick tonight?”

I frowned. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I’m concerned that you didn’t even hesitate to go.”

I forgot, for a moment, that Lyle was my boyfriend now. Because when I responded, it was with the same annoyance, frustration, and irritation I had for him all those years he flirted with me hesitantly. When he’d act standoffish after watching me go to the hotel room of someone who wasn’t in the closet, and when he’d been denying his attraction to me.

“I don’t question every little decision I make before I do it,” I snapped.

Lyle started to say something, but the bartender cleared his throat to interrupt us.

“Are you two going or not? I got thirsty customers.”

I looked at Lyle, letting him decide. He let out a heavy breath, obviously mad at what I said, before nodding. He passed me, going through the door, and I gave the bartender a smile before following.

The door had opened to a long hallway. It was dark; there were no lights to be seen, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. I couldn’t see where Lyle was in front of me. I reached forward, hoping I’d touch him soon.

“Lyle!” I whispered into the dark. Where had Maggie and Blue gone? “Where are you? I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it.”

I felt a hand grip my wrist, pulling me to the side. My back hit the wall, and before I could make sense of what was happening, I felt lips on mine. I worried, for a half second, that this was some stranger who found me in the dark and mistook me for someone else. But I realized quickly from the softness of his lips, the insistence of his tongue, and the way he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer while pushing me against the wall that this was Lyle.

My Lyle.

By the time we broke apart, I was pleasantly out of breath.

“I don’t think about everything,” he hissed in my ear. “But I don’t flit around like an idiot, either.”

I opened my mouth to protest that I didn’t flit, nor was I an idiot, but Lyle caught me in another kiss. This one was over way too quick, Lyle taking my hand and leading me further down the hall before I could catch up with everything that had just happened. The hallway turned, twice, before emptying out into a large room that looked something out of a movie.

There was a stage against the back wall, a woman wearing withing but beads around her neck and waist singing a jazz tune that a man at the piano was playing with her. There were women and men in lingerie, teddies, bralettes, and speedos serving mostly men in suits, smoking cigars. There were a group of women in fancy red flapper dresses, and a few wearing suits like the men.

In one corner was a pool table, where a group of men were placing bets. A card dealer was running a poker game in the center of the room while a hookah lounge by the stage created a haze of smoke in the room. There were a few people like us; wearing the standard bar hopping jeans and button ups or casual dresses. Most of them were walking around with drinks or blunts, just taking everything in.

“It’s a real-life speakeasy!” I said with a smile, looking around.

“Any good bartender in this city knows where all of these are,” Maggie said, walking up to us with drinks in her hand. “Cheers!”

“Good looking out,” I grinned, taking the drink from her. “I’ve always wanted to find one of these.”

“You should ask them for their blunts,” Blue said, brandishing the one she got. “More money than I’m sure they’re worth, but I have no trouble paying extra for the ambiance.”

We all laughed, finding an empty table to sit down at as we drank and shared Blue’s blunt. Even Lyle took a few passes, and I knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of weed. The jazz singer started a peppier tune, scatting in a deep alto that felt rich and sultry.

“Now here’s a familiar face.”

I looked up, wondering why the deep yet feminine voice I heard behind me sounded so familiar. When I turned and saw Al Faust standing there in a fetching dark suit, I froze. Her hair was in a gorgeous, wild mane of curls, framing her face nicely. I could suddenly understand why my cousin, Tatiana, had a crush on her.

“Nice to see some young faces in my establishment,” Al said, a girl stopping next to her when she noticed Al wasn’t by her side anymore. “I was just talking to Sofia about switching things up to attract a younger clientele.” Al paused, looking at the men playing pool and ogling the jazz singer. “I hate having to appeal to men’s baser instincts.”

“I doubt you’d want my opinion on the place then,” I said carefully, shrugging.

The girl next to Al gave me a sympathetic smile. She was also stunning. Thin, but with the honey skin and round hazel eyes that made me wonder if she was creole. She looked it. She was wearing a fitted dress that showed off the curve of her chest, the faded pink gorgeous in the dark light. She had long locs that were in a bun on top of her hair, a satin, pink scarf holding it up. She had a black heart tattooed on her cheek, and a choker neckless that brought attention to her long neck.

“I’m sorry for her,” the young woman said, glancing at Al.

Al ignored her, continuing. “I’m actually very interested to hear what you have say. You’re enjoying the aesthetic?”

Shit. Now I knew why the girl was apologizing. I looked at everyone else, who were all quiet. Maggie and Blue would likely be starstruck, but even Lyle knew to shut the fuck up in the presence of Al Faust.

“I like that it has an older feel,” I told her. “But still more modern. I’m sure speakeasies back in the day didn’t have hookah bars.”

Al rolled her eyes while the woman next to her smiled.

“Those were my idea. See, Amira? I told you that’s how you attract younger people.”

“Thank you, Sofia,” Al said, smiling at her. It seemed like this was part of a long-winded conversation between them. “I will make a point to give your ideas more merit in the future.”

Sofia smiled at her before turning to us. “She likes to pretend I’m not noticeably younger than her, and therefore know what I’m talking about in this regard. Thank you for proving me right.”

Al moved, grabbing Sofia’s upper arm. She didn’t flinch, simply smiling up at Al, waiting. There was something soberingly familiar with that gesture that I felt my stomach turn.

Evan. Al reminded me of Evan. And how Sofia just easily took that grip, pretending we couldn’t all see how hard Al was squeezing her, reminded me of the perfect wife Evan had wanted me to be.

“Sofia, my dear,” Al said sweetly. “Do you mind waiting for me at entrance?”

“Of course, my love,” Sofia said, waiting the second between them to pass before Al finally let her go.

Without so much as a glance back at us, Sofia turned, easily walking towards the door. There were men standing there, waiting for her. They escorted her out.

“She is a darling little pet,” Al mused, before turning back to us. She lifted her hand, making a gesture for someone to join us. Who, I wasn’t sure, because she didn’t look at anyone. “I appreciate your opinion on the matter, Andres de la Vega. Oh, and I read about the verdict. I’m sure you’re excited to finally be free from your husband.”

“Ex-husband,” I corrected, returning her smile. “Since it’s official now.”

Al’s eyes flashed, and I knew she appreciated that. Keeping up with her was exhausting. But if I survived Evan, I could survive what was hopefully my last meeting with Al Faust.

“Right,” she said, as if remembering. “Ex-husband. Oh, there you are.”

A bartender appeared at their table, having been the person Al was apparently gesturing to.

“These four are celebrating tonight. Anything, and anyone,” Al added, gesturing to the wandering men and women who seemed to be looking for someone to pay for their night, “is on me. Do run the bill up high; you’ll never get this opportunity again.”

There was a pause; she was obviously looking for a response.

“Thank you, Ms. Faust,” I said, politely. “You’re too kind.”

“Kind?” she said, smiling broadly. “Never. Please don’t even think of spreading such an awful rumor. It was nice meeting you all. Adieu, Andres.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room. Only once she was gone did the bartender leave and the rest of us let out a breath.

“Well,” Blue said, letting out a sigh. “There’s nothing like meeting _the_ Al Faust to sober you right up.”

“Seriously,” Maggie said, looking around. “Kinda feel like just leaving now.”

I looked around. I was in a speakeasy, celebrating my emancipation from Evan and the Willows. And Al Faust had just given me an endless line of credit. I didn’t care if she expected me to use it. She was right: I would never get this chance again.

“Fuck that,” I said, gesturing towards the bartender. He looked surprised that I was taking Al up on her offer. “We’re going to party so hard that we don’t remember it.”

Blue smiled at that. “That does sound like a better idea.”

“Right? I’m a genius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a throw-away chapter, but a fun one nonetheless. 
> 
> Have I mentioned how much I LOVE writing Al. She's very complicated. And Sofia! Being Al's woman isn't easy. Sofia can handle it though. Mix that negro with that creole--okay, I'll stop. Beyonce ain't asked to be included in this. 
> 
> There is a pretty decent age gap between them. Not like 10+ years, but enough where it can still be felt, you know. I'm 29 and feel old as fuck around 20-24 year olds lol. So it's kinda like that. Sofia's actually pretty close to Camilla's age. 
> 
> Funny that. 
> 
> Sofia's family has long roots and history in Faust City. Very similar to the Fausts and Lerouxs. She can't use magic, though. She's actually not that fond of it, but recognizes that it's a staple of the city. Al actually doesn't use magic often around her as a result. Al, actually, doesn't use magic nearly as often as you might think in general. One might assume Al Faust uses magic a lot in her day-to-day, but her sister and cousins use it a lot more on a daily than she does. 
> 
> Al is very ritualistic with her magic. She doesn't like using it on the spot, actually. Sofia is very ritualistic herself; for someone who doesn't like magic, she does believe in manifestation. Lol. So she'll burn sage and meditate and use essential oils. But she's not into magic, you know? 
> 
> They're a very interesting couple. 
> 
> Anyway, Andres is free, yay! 
> 
> Wonder how long it'll last, eh? 
> 
> I'll be catching up on comments this weekend, so please leave plenty for me! :3


	51. Chapter 51

“Oh, you’re allowed down here?”

I sipped my glass of water, watching as Jacob walked into the kitchen. He’d been on cloud nine since Declan’s disappearance. No one talked about Declan, nor the incident. Instead, Jacob had been held up in the house with a group of young, surrogate wives to keep him company. Doing what, I wasn’t sure; just that it meant they spent bouts in the kitchen helping him cook before leaving right when dinner would usually begin.

Them cooking food at the house was convenient since Evan took the week off from work. He only let me out of bed long enough to piss or eat the food Jacob and his new friends cooked. Or, as he had been so nice enough to allow, for a brief ten-minute break so I could rest before I went back to worshipping his dick.

Jacob sat across from me with a glass of sweet tea and a bowl of mix fruit. He kindly handed me a fork, and I took it, debating. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I’d probably need the energy if I was going to last another round with Evan.

“Nothing smart to say?” Jacob said when I didn’t respond to his remark.

“I’m too tired for sarcasm,” I admitted, zeroing in on a pineapple. “Don’t your hens usually follow you when you leave your room?”

Jacob shrugged. “I pretend I have to puke when the love bombing gets too much.”

I smiled. “So _that’s_ what you all do when you’re holed up in there.”

Jacob’s face went flush as he held my gaze to show how unamused he was.

“There it is,” he said, focusing back on the fruit.

I let out a chuckle, looking at my glass of water.

“He’s doing this to tire me out on purpose. I’m easier to deal with when I’m tired.”

“And they’re loving bombing me now to make up for Declan.” Jacob shrugged again.

I hesitated, gulping down my water. Evan would come looking for me soon.

“Are you nervous for when he comes back?” I asked.

Jacob sighed. “I don’t know. At least a little?”

“Will anyone say where he is?”

Jacob met my eyes again. “Just that he’s spending a lot of time in prayer.”

I blinked. That could mean a million things at the Willows. That, of course, being the point. Was he being punished? That seemed likely.

“I didn’t think men could do any wrong here,” I said.

“I think it was less what he did to me, and more what he did to Evan.”

I thought about that. Jacob had a point. No one intended to step in and help him when Declan was preparing to beat him in front of everyone. But they were happy to intervene once Declan’s ire turned on Evan.

“I fucking hate this place,” I muttered, stabbing a mango with my fork.

There was a heavy knock at the front door, making both of us jump. I swallowed, looking at Jacob, a grape hovering inches from his mouth as he looked in the direction of the door.

“One of your friends?” I asked.

“No,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “Everyone who can be is already here.”

Neither of us moved, and I was sure it was because we were both thinking of Declan. Speak of the devil—

“Why are you two just sitting here?” Evan asked, rounding the corner. Despite his harsh tone, he looked relaxed in his face. He reached for a strawberry from Jacob’s bowl, sitting at the island next to me. “Answer the door, _mi sol_.” 

I dropped the fork with a clatter, not entirely on purpose, and stood up. I was too tired, too sore, and too irritated to deal with whoever was at the door. Still, I fixed a neutral expression as I pulled it open.

“Andres!” Shiloh sang, hugging me and forcing me to step back so I didn’t fall under his weight. “Afternoon! How are you?”

“Ah, hi,” I gasped, watching Josh follow Shiloh in, closing the door behind him.

Josh simply nodded at me, easily finding his way into the kitchen. Shiloh let me go, smiling brightly and energetically.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as Shiloh took my hand and trailed behind Josh.

“What do you mean?” Shiloh asked, looking genuinely confused. “We’re spending the afternoon together.”

I started to ask what Shiloh was talking about. Evan had made it clear as day what we’d be doing all afternoon: more of what we’d been doing all morning.

Then it clicked. I remembered that conversation with Evan that I had pushed far from my mind. I swallowed, my back tensing as we entered the kitchen. Josh was talking to Jacob, asking him how he was doing.

“He’s been cooking a lot,” Evan told Josh, as if bragging. “He’s had quite the appetite lately.”

Jacob quietly put his fork down, looking down at the table to avoid their gazes.

“Surrogates should have a healthy appetite,” Josh remarked, glancing at Shiloh. “It’s a good habit to form now before Declan returns.”

Jacob looked up at that, obviously wanting to ask. Then he decided against it. He glanced at me, as if wanting help.

“Do we know when he’s coming back?” I asked in his stead. “Declan? He _is_ coming back, right?”

“Of course, he’s coming back,” Josh said, his tone impatient. He gave me a disapproving glance. “As for when…”

“That’s really for Declan to decide,” Evan finished, shrugging casually. “Heard it could be at least another week at the rate he’s going.”

Josh shrugged, obviously not caring about this topic. Evan looked at Jacob, sitting still at the island.

“Jacob,” Evan said, nodding at the fruit. “Are you done? Why don’t you clean up and join your friends upstairs?”

Jacob nodded, moving to do just that. We all watched him put the rest of the fruit in the refrigerator before disappearing towards the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Josh settled into the stool next to Evan, leaning back against the island. His gaze turned predator as he regarded me.

“Come here, Andres,” he commanded, holding out a hand.

I glanced at Evan, saw his own dark gaze, before I closed the distance between Josh and me. As soon as I was in his range, he gripped my forearm, pulling me closer. I wasn’t expecting it, the movement almost forcing me to collapse in his lap. Evan laughed, though I couldn’t see what had been so amusing about that. 

“I don’t think we’ve properly been introduced,” Josh said, not forcing me back down when I moved to stand in front of him instead of sitting in his lap. He still kept a grip on my arm, his other hand finding my ass. “I’m Josh. Your husband’s second.”

“I—” I cut myself off, looking at Evan. He didn’t seem at all bothered by Josh touching me. I wouldn’t get help there. “I’m Andres.”

“Did your husband explain what it means that I am his second?”

“Yes,” I said through my teeth.

“Good. I expect obedience, Andres. You’re going to make this very easy for me, aren’t you?”

I blinked at him, not even sure what to say to that.

“Andres,” Evan said, grabbing my attention. “Go show Shiloh our room. We’ll follow in a bit.”

I nodded, grateful for Josh to remove his hands from me. I took a step back, then two, before turning towards the door. I didn’t look to see if Shiloh was following, but Josh did speak then.

“Shiloh,” he said.

I paused, not looking back. I was sure Shiloh stopped as well.

“Remember why I brought you here.”

What the fuck did that mean? But all I heard was Shiloh approach me, grabbing my hand.

“Yes, Josh,” he said happily, pulling me out of the room.

I didn’t breathe until we reached the stairs. I wanted to collapse then and there, but knew better. I was quiet as I led Shiloh up the stars, down the hall to the room I shared with Evan. When I shut the door, I considered locking it. It wouldn’t stop Evan, but it would delay him a bit. Any second-long reprieve seemed worth it to me.

“I can’t do this,” I said to Shiloh, turning. He was wandering around, a hand grazing the top of our dresser and windowsill as he took in the room.

“Do what?” Shiloh asked sweetly, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing me.

“I know you love him, Shiloh,” I started, as if that would lessen the blow. “But I can’t do this. I can’t have sex with him.”

“Oh.” Shiloh tilted his head as he regarded me. “Why not?”

“Why not? Because I don’t want to!”

“Oh. Well, _that’s_ not a very good reason, is it?”

“And why not?” I challenged. “It’s a perfect answer where I came from.”

“Yeah, but we’re not in the city,” Shiloh said easily, with a shrug. “We’re in the Nation. In the Willows.”

My heart was racing. Every second Shiloh wasn’t getting this was a second wasted. I couldn’t waste all this time trying to explain how this was wrong. That I shouldn’t have to have sex with some stranger—whom I wasn’t even married to—just because of where I was.

“Do you really not see a problem with all this?” I spat, approaching him. Shiloh moved to the center of the bed, sitting there on his knees as he watched me. “You really think this is normal?”

Shiloh took a deep breath in, and when he let it out, his ditzy smile left his lips entirely. His eyes relaxed, no longer maintaining the doe-eyed gaze he was infamous for. In this moment, he looked irritated. I wasn’t sure I ever saw Shiloh look irritated before.

“Is this really how you want to play this?” he asked me. “It’s going to happen whether you want it or not.”

I felt a bit shaken by the break in Shiloh. I always suspected he put on the ditzy routine a bit, but it felt like I was looking at a totally different person.

“Josh isn’t my husband,” I said, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have to do this with him.”

“Well, Evan isn’t _my_ husband,” Shiloh said, climbing over the bed completely so he could get closer to me. “But I had to submit to this before you got here.”

I blinked at him. It wasn’t as though I was surprised to hear that; I wasn’t silly enough to think Evan was a virgin when we got married. He was older than me, and way too good at controlling himself in bed. That only came with plenty of experience.

Still, there was something oddly sobering about hearing Shiloh say that. And this was before I was in the picture. How many times did Shiloh have to submit to Evan, spread his legs obediently for a man who had no claim to him?

Shiloh moved off the bed entirely now, walking up and taking one of my hands. I watched him, unsure what to even say at this point.

“It’s really not that bad,” he assured me, his smile returning easily. “If you can take Evan, you can handle Josh. And at least you don’t have to take them both at the same time.”

I frowned. “They made you do that?”

Shiloh nodded. “It wasn’t bad or anything. A little hard, but I’ll be able to distract Evan a bit so that it’s not too much for you.”

“I can’t,” I said, pulling away from Shiloh. I glanced at the door, considering my options. I doubted I could make it out the front door if I tried to sneak out that way. Maybe the window?

“Andres,” Shiloh said, following me as I walked over to the window. “Please. Josh really hates fighting. He’s so much easier to handle when you do what he says.”

“He’s not my fucking husband to obey,” I snapped, pushing at the window. I’d never tried to open it before; the nights were cool so there was no need. But as I struggled, I could see that they weren’t designed to open. I wouldn’t be able to get out this way.

Fuck.

“Men are our leaders,” Shiloh said, watching me fail. “Whether it’s our husbands or our fathers, or—”

“My father would never allow this,” I said, turning my glare to Shiloh. “You don’t even understand how fucked up this is, Shiloh!”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” Shiloh said, returning my glare. “The Willows isn’t my original home, either. I’m an outsider to all this, just like you.”

“No, not like me.” My anger was reaching a boiling point. “You might not have been raised here, but you were raised in the Nation. And you were raised believing all this bullshit. Compared to that, the Willows is a dream. It’s no wonder you submit so easily.”

“I spent more than four years starving myself because I didn’t want to have a child,” Shiloh snapped, his ire matching mine now. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. Angry, but quiet. “You don’t know anything about me.”

I froze, my anger bleeding away. Because Shiloh was right: I didn’t know him. All I knew was that he was from the Nation. A “rescue.” Anything else was conjecture. As much sympathy as I had for Shiloh, I never let myself get too close to him. I never truly cared about him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sighing and leaning against the window. “You’re right: I shouldn’t have made assumptions like that.”

Shiloh shook his head, looking down outside the window.

“I don’t know if this is easy for anyone,” he said. “It’s going to be hard for everyone for some reason. I—I mean, Josh didn’t technically bring me here legally. He actually should have gotten in trouble for it. Like hardcore trouble. Kidnapping a surrogate is a capital offense.”

That was another loop Shiloh was throwing me for. I really didn’t know shit about him.

“He _kidnapped_ you?” I asked.

Shiloh sighed, rather dramatically, and moved to fall on the bed. I hesitated before sitting next to him. Shiloh looked up at the ceiling, his eyes glued to a single spot.

“Technically,” Shiloh finally answered. “He, um, was my counselor. When I was at the Center.”

I wasn’t fully sure what that meant. I knew that surrogates were often subjected to psych evaluations to ensure they didn’t get too depressed. But I couldn’t imagine how helpful they actually were.

“I stopped eating back then,” Shiloh said. He hesitated, as if debating whether to say something. He made his decision before continuing. “Some things happened, and I-I couldn’t let myself get pregnant. So it started from that. If I got too skinny, I wouldn’t be able to have a baby. Josh used to get so mad at me for skipping meals. There’s really only so much they can do on that front, you know?

“Even after Josh brought me here, I really didn’t want to eat. Not because I wanted control or something stupid. I resented Josh a lot in the beginning. I refused to have his child. And even after I got over that, it was the same on _that_ front: I didn’t want to have his child. I still don’t. Not really.”

“What changed?” I asked, curious now. I was surprised to hear that all of this had been an act of defiance on Shiloh’s end. I had always assumed it was a typical control issue thing. Similar in most people with eating disorders. To know that it was his attempt at birth control was interesting. It was about control in a way, but deeper than that: it was an act of rebellion.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Shiloh said with a shrug. “A few months ago, like right before you got here, the council sat me down and made it very clear what would happen to me if I continued like that. They gave me a time frame that I needed to have my cycles back, and a time frame on when I needed to be pregnant.”

“Or what? They lobotomize you?”

“The Willows doesn’t believe in lobotomies,” Shiloh said, sitting up suddenly then. He paused, looking out the window, before turning to me. His eyes were clear and sharp when he spoke. “It was heavily implied that they would kill me. And Josh would need to find another wife.”

I let out a heavy breath, remembering that conversation I had with Evan what felt like a lifetime ago. When I asked him what he would have done if I fought him that day we’d been taken.

_I would have had to kill you._

“The Willows is like that,” Shiloh said, watching me process his words. “Our submission will only be asked for so long. Back when I was in the Nation, I knew that my actions would result in a lobotomy. I felt that would be better than having to be so _aware_ of how much I hated everything.

“But I don’t get that out here. _We_ don’t get that out. We submit, or they will do away with us. Living here and playing along isn’t that bad, Andres. It’s really not. I hate a lot of it too, but I’m not yet ready to die. I’m just not.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t _have_ anything to say. He was right. And, really, wasn’t this the conversation I had with Jacob recently? We’d both been fighting in our own ways. How could I tell Jacob to stop if I was so determined to keep going?

“This is stupid,” I said, lying back on the bed. After a beat, Shiloh joined me. “I hate this place.”

“I do too, sometimes,” Shiloh agreed. Then, easily and smoothly, he rolled to his side, climbing on top of me so he could straddle my hips. “I’m going to be here the entire time, though. Okay? You won’t be alone.”

I nodded. I knew I was supposed to take some sort of solace in that. Even if I didn’t really feel any better.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice barely a whisper.

Shiloh smiled, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned down to kiss me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't you  
> Feel a  
> BRAND NEW DAY! 
> 
> Haha! Who knows that song? 
> 
> I was going to post this chapter on Saturday as a surprise to celebrate. Celebrate what you ask? Oh, haven't you heard? Orange was sus, and so America ejected him out of the spaceship. He's been tossed into the lava. Ding dong that witch is dead! 
> 
> Trump is OUT, bitches! 
> 
> Whooooo, I was so stressed all last week. I literally collapsed when I found out. I was cleaning my room and determined not to look at my phone and check all day. After a few hours, I pick up my phone and saw a text from my mom and my friend. My mom's text, all extra for no reason, "So...Biden won." And then my friend, who is from the UK, sent me a congrats. When I looked at my screen, I saw my friend's congrats first because she sent celebration emojis (lol) When I saw that, my heart started racing and then I saw my mom's text and I was like "OMG!" I literally straight fell to the floor. I didn't cry (I'm not a WIMP like some people, loljkjkjk), but God did I have some sort of, like, spiritual release. 
> 
> I realized this past weekend how much I'd been holding myself back and just NOT breathing since Trump got elected. Especially around whites. I just didn't trust anyone. I was like "they all my enemy, and everyone is complacent in this shit." Lol. I really had no hope of people turning out, but we did! We turned out! Ahhhh. I have faith in this country again. Maybe we CAN make it better, you know? 
> 
> We'll see. 
> 
> Anyway, this story! How do you guys feel about this chapter? Next chapter is going to have a BUNCH of warnings, btw, because it's really intense and rough. I'm warning people now in case they want to skip. I can do a summary on the chapter following for those who do. I don't blame people if they do skip. 
> 
> I think if you read my side story, you might have known a bit about this from Shiloh. I actually can't remember lol. But yes, Josh was his counselor. Josh is interesting, in that he was a counselor who initially got into it to see if there were anything in modern psychology that could help the Willows with maintaining the wellness of the women and surrogates there. But working in a Center really disillusioned him. Shiloh's case was especially heart breaking to him; thus why he sort of just went "fuck it" and then kidnapped him. 
> 
> Not to romanticize it or some shit; it wasn't some romantic gesture. 
> 
> He is really lucky he didn't get in trouble, but he didn't take Shiloh out of the country, nor did he intend to free Shiloh from his procreation responsibilities. There's another major reason why Josh didn't get in trouble, but that's a later conversation. 
> 
> Tomorrow is Friday, thank God. Another long week. Bleh. I will catch up with comments, I promise. I've just been so exhausted lately. Fucking seasonal depression hitting like a BITCH, eh? Lol. 
> 
> Take care of yourselves! And please leave comments please! Thank you!


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter depicts explicit rape and sexual violence. Always, always, ALWAYS keep your own mental health as a priority. If depictions of rape are something you are sensitive, PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER. 
> 
> Thank you.

Shiloh was an insanely good kisser. He didn’t make the mistake of using too much tongue, nor were his lips too aggressive like Evan’s often were. In fact, it reminded me of Chris, my first, after we found the rhythm with each other. When we both closed our eyes and got lost in the array of flushed skin, rapidly beating hearts, and insistent touches.

Shiloh felt so gentle, so familiar, and so loving that I almost forgot where we were. What was coming next.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been going at it, rolling over each other and moving to a seated position and touching each other. It could have been hours for all I was concerned, so lost in Shiloh’s embrace. I didn’t come back down to reality until I felt a hand on my back, making me jump. I started to pull away, but Shiloh didn’t want to let me go. He wrapped his arms around my neck, locking me in place.

“No need to stop for us,” I heard Evan say, his voice coming from where the bed dipped behind me. He slowly traced his fingers up and down my spine. “Keep going. Just like that.”

Shiloh paused, just long enough for us to take a breath before starting again. I heard the sound of something unzipping. It went on for too long for it to have come from Evan or Josh. Sure enough, Shiloh pulled away, shimmying out of his top.

I watched, using the lull to catch my breath and take in what was happening. Evan unzipped my own shirt, helping me out of it. Josh was next to Shiloh, tossing his shirt on the ground. His eyes watched me now that I was topless. His pupils were dilated, lust visible on his expression.

This was weird. Uncomfortable. As if the only reason we’d been making out was to turn Josh on. His hard-on was visible through his pants; he obviously enjoyed it.

“Andres,” Josh said, meeting my eye and reaching out a hand towards me. “Why don’t you come in my lap?”

I swallowed, my eyes falling to his hand. It felt like a trap. Just like before. My stomach twisted, my heart picking up speed. I didn’t move.

“Don’t be rude, Andres,” Evan said, running a hand up my back until he was able to grip the nape of my neck.

Everyone was watching me. I didn’t want to be difficult. I really didn’t. But I felt frozen. Cold. Evan was one thing. I could handle him. But this was a beast I was sure would devour me.

“I was nervous the first time too,” Shiloh said, sliding next to me, and kissing me on the cheek. “It’s like getting into a bath. It feels too hot when you first step in, but once you’re fully in it, you’re fine.”

That was probably the least helpful thing Shiloh could have said. Still, I wasn’t going anywhere until this played out. There was no escaping. So I simply nodded before reaching out and taking Josh’s hand.

If I thought Evan manhandled me on a daily, that wasn’t close to how roughly and easily Josh pulled me into his lap. I thought he intended for me to sit there, but he instead maneuvered me on my back, my head resting on his thighs. Shiloh also moved, climbing on top of me and straddling my hips. I couldn’t see Evan, but I could feel his eyes on us.

“There you go,” Josh said, his voice a low rumble. “Just stay relaxed. Just like that.”

Shiloh’s hands found the band of my pants, pushing them down. I was so distracted by it that I didn’t even notice Josh pulling his own dick out of his pants. Not until he pressed it against my cheek, trying to turn my head towards it. Probably to suck him off.

That had been his first mistake: letting me see his dick. Like Evan, he was unnecessarily big, and even a bit girthier. All I could think in that moment was how tired I was of passively taking dick I didn’t want. Tired of bearing through sex that was uncomfortable, and even painful at times.

I wasn’t doing this.

So as Shiloh just managed to get my pants off, I turned to my side, pushing up and away from him and Josh. I might have kicked Shiloh in the struggle, but I honestly didn’t fucking care in that moment.

“What are you doing?” Josh asked, looking unimpressed as he regarded me.

“Not this,” I snapped, moving to get off the bed. I just needed some fucking distance.

But distance was not what I would be given. Someone gripped my arm, pulling me back. I winced, oddly grateful when I saw it was Evan, and not Josh, touching me.

“No one excused you,” Evan scolded, his voice hard.

“I can’t do this,” I told him, turning full-bodied to face him. The movement forced him to let my arm go.

“You’re not even trying.”

I blinked at him. “ _I’m not doing this_.”

I heard the sharp intake of breath from Shiloh. I felt the way Josh tensed behind me. And Evan. I _saw_ the way his eyes went dark with anger.

“This,” Evan said, his words measured and firm. “This. Is. Nonnegotiable.”

“No.”

That one was on me. I knew I wasn’t supposed to say that word. It was Evan’s first lesson. I knew better. And I said it anyway.

“Do you let him use such foul language on the regular?” Josh asked, his tone chastising.

“No,” Evan said, regarding me coolly. “He knows better.”

“How do you correct him when he talks out of turn like this?”

Evan hesitated, glancing over at Josh now.

“He-he’s never done this before. He knows the line and he knows to not cross it.”

“Apparently not,” Josh said, his eyes turning back to me. His gaze was predatory again. I went still watching him. “Let me correct him.”

Evan seemed to consider it. He turned his eyes towards Shiloh, who had been sitting next to Josh, waiting quietly. Evan let out a heavy breath.

“Don’t bruise his face,” Evan acquiesced. “Nothing broken.”

“Please. When have you ever seen Shiloh sporting any visible marks? Shiloh, love. Off the bed. Now.”

As Shiloh slid off the bed, Josh moved, gripping my arm again. I winced, sure I would end up with bruises considered how many times someone had pulled at my arm. But it was always where the Willows’ uniform would cover my arms. Even if they did leave marks, no one would see them.

Josh turned me so that I was facing him, his hand on the back of my neck and trying to push me down. I struggled against him, trying to pull away.

“On your stomach. Now.”

“Get off of me!” I spat, wishing I had more leverage on my knees like this.

Before Josh could respond to my insolence, I felt hands on my ankles. It took me a good second to realize what was happening before my legs were yanked back. The movement knocked me completely off equilibrium, forcing me to plop right on my stomach like Josh wanted. I glanced and saw Evan climb on top of me, straddling my thighs and pressing his hands on the small of my back. I belated realized it was so I couldn’t get up.

“Stop,” I whined, trying and failing to crawl out from where he had me trapped. “Please stop!”

“Since you don’t know how to keep ugly words out of your mouth,” Josh said, his hand moving to the back of my head, “let’s give your mouth something more useful to do.”

I started to tell Josh that I would bite his dick off if he brought it anywhere close to me, but in one swift move, Josh pinched my nose when I wasn’t expecting it, forcing me to open my mouth to gasp for air. And before the air could even make it to my lungs, he was shoving me down on his dick, forcing himself deep into my throat. I gagged, but Josh’s hand on the back of my head held firm.

He kept me like that for a few seconds before letting go of my nose. All I could think was that I was choking. That I was going to die if he didn’t let me go so I could breathe properly. My hands found his thighs, desperately pushing against them to try get him out. But between him holding my head down and Evan pinning my hips and legs, I was trapped.

Josh’s hand on my head gripped at my hair, yanking me up suddenly. As soon as his dick left my mouth, I was overtaken with heavy coughs and dry heaves. My throat felt scratchy and I still couldn’t move. Josh let me do that for a minute, silence filling the room other than me desperately trying to recover from almost being choked to death.

“Ready to try that properly?” Josh asked.

I felt sheer panic seize my body.

“I’m sorry,” I cried, tears pooling in my eyes. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t say it again!”

“I asked you a question, Andres,” Josh said, ignoring my apology. “Are you ready to try that properly?”

I blinked up at him, not sure what he was referring to. He watched me for a full second before sighing.

“Alright then,” he said, his hand returning to my nose.

I panicked, bringing a hand to my face to stop him and another to the back of my head to get him off. I had no bearing on my stomach, though. I couldn’t stop him. One of Evan’s hands left my back, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand from my face. I took a deep breath in through my mouth before Josh forced himself in me again.

He didn’t pause this time: he forced me down and then fucked my throat despite how many times I gagged and even puked a little on his dick. He wouldn’t let me up, forcing me to swallow it and him. He occasionally would lift my head just high enough, his dick not so deep that I couldn’t breathe. I would take a couple of heavy breaths before he pushed me back down so he could fuck my face.

I wasn’t sure how long it went on for. I got to a point where I stopped trying to hold back the tears, letting them flow down my cheeks. I had never felt this helpless before in my life. Even when Evan first took me, I felt more in control than I currently did. I had something to cling to. Something to keep me grounded.

But in this moment, I had nothing. I had no strength, no magic, no one to protect with my obedience, no one to please. I was being punished, hurt, and no one was taking joy from it. Despite fucking my throat, Josh didn’t seem close to coming. Evan wasn’t even hard where I could feel him against my ass. And Shiloh’s breath had been shallow and slightly panicked since this started.

What was this for then? I could understand this if Evan and Josh got some sick satisfaction from it. Got off on the power trip. Or were sadists, like Declan, who enjoyed that I was in pain. But they handled this with the distance a parent does disciplining a child. Or, rather, a master punishing a pet.

If it wasn’t about them getting off on it, then what was this for? Was it really all about punishing me? For saying no? For arguing? For fighting? Evan had never done anything like this before. Was that the point? To show that he could be mean like this, but chose not to be? That I was lucky, and should just be an obedient little puppy when he told me to do something?

Even if it meant spreading my legs for whoever he wanted?

Josh pulled me off his dick completely again, turning my head to the side so I could look up at him. He looked so bored. So unaffected. I felt a sob tear through me, shaking my entire body. I just wanted this to stop.

“Are you ready to try this properly?”

I blinked, tears falling on his lap. What was he talking about? I thought back. What had started all this? Oh! When he tried to get me to suck him off. That was when I freaked out.

Then it clicked. _That’s_ what this was about.

“Yes,” I said, my throat raw. I tried to cough a bit to clear it; not that it helped. “Yes. Please. I’ll do it properly. I’m sorry.”

Josh nodded. “Then go ahead.”

Josh finally let my hair go. I took a few sobering breaths before gently taking his dick in one hand and stroking him. He was only mostly hard, which was a surprise; he’d been in my throat for a while. He really couldn’t get properly hard from that?

Whatever. I moved as much as I could still pinned under Evan, and swallowed Josh easily. Given the brutal treatment he’d just given me, there was no point in going too slow. So I set an enthusiastic pace, licking and sucking him to full hardness.

“I don’t have him do that often,” I heard Evan say on top of me.

“I can tell,” Josh said, grunting a little. I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. Or anger? I wasn’t sure. “Shiloh can teach him. We’ll have plenty of chances to practice.”

Evan hummed, finally climbing off of me. “Speaking of which; let’s give Shiloh something to do.”

The bed creaked as Shiloh was, likely, pulled onto the bed. I closed my eyes, focusing on Josh’s dick in my mouth. I was happy that Evan wasn’t big on me giving head: I didn’t particularly like doing it. It was never a skill I saw much value in learning.

“You need to get better at this,” Josh critiqued conversationally. “Shiloh would have had me come by now. Pick up the pace.”

I wanted to tell Josh to go shove his dick in Shiloh’s mouth then if he was so good at it. But I really didn’t want another throat fucking from Josh. So I adjusted myself a bit now that Evan wasn’t on me, and did just as Josh wanted. My head bobbed up and down, and I soon created a challenging pace.

Josh seemed to appreciate it, however. He let out a low hum, and stroked my cheek with his knuckles.

“There you go,” he praised. “So you can do it well if you actually try.”

I still couldn’t tell if I was getting hot in the face from embarrassment or anger. I’d never had someone just straight criticize me in bed before. At most, someone might tell me to speed up, or take it slower. Based on the mood and their personal preferences. But Josh obviously believed that his desires should be my priority. He hadn’t bothered touching me through this, and I knew he wouldn’t bat an eye if this all ended without me coming once.

In a way, it was easier to handle than Evan’s desire to pretend I was a willing participate in this. Even though Evan didn’t care too much how I reacted in bed, he did have his moods where we’d try to wring out as many orgasms from me as possible. He wanted this, to some degree, to be about both of us enjoying each other as husband and wife.

At least with Josh not giving two shits about that, I didn’t have to pretend this was fun for me. Still, he didn’t have to be quite so rude about it. He didn’t have to make it seem like I was terrible at sex simply because I wasn’t excited to suck him off. He didn’t have to be so fucking mean.

After a few minutes, Josh pressed his hand on the top of my head. I held still, not surprised that he intended to come in my mouth. I hated having semen in my mouth. It was gross, and spitting it out was a mess.

But before I could think too hard about it, Josh shoved his dick down my throat as he moaned his released. I gagged a little as he came down my throat. I wasn’t expecting that. Even as he pulled out, I wasn’t going to be able to cough it up; I had to swallow it. And it was obvious he’d done that on purpose. He wanted me to fucking swallow!

Josh moved again, pulling me up so that I was sitting in front of him. He was so meticulous in his movements; no synergy between us. He simply pushed and pulled me where he wanted me. I never knew where I would be until I was laying the way he wanted me.

As if to prove my point, he settled between my legs before pushing me onto my back. Shiloh’s face was above me, his eyes closed and his mouth open as he let out little moans. I could tell from the way he kept moving back and forth that Evan was fucking him from behind. He didn’t seem to notice me.

Josh leaned forwarded, pushing my legs as far apart as he could. I felt exposed. Wide open. Josh’s dick pressed against me, and I suddenly had the feeling that this was all happening too fast. Without ceremony, Josh pushed into me, filling me up completely. It was tight, but Josh didn’t care if I was struggling to make him fit. He kept pushing deeper and deeper. Even when I thought for sure there was no more for me to take, he would push even more in.

“Now that wasn’t hard, was it?” Josh sneered as he bottomed out. Finally.

I nodded, just to show that I wasn’t going to be defiant. He got comfortable and started moving. He was surprisingly gentler than I expected, setting an easy pace. He even managed to hit the right spots at times, forcing little moans from me no matter how hard I tried to hold it in. It was actually rather pleasant. Not at all the aggressive and painful fuck-fest that I’d been expecting.

I glanced up, Shiloh’s eyes open now. He was watching me, absentmindedly licking his lips as he breathed through Evan’s fucking. I felt immensely connected to him in that moment, as we watched our husbands fuck each other.

Evan had said part of this was supposed to be for the four of us to bond. Even though all I knew about Josh was that I didn’t like him, I understood what he meant now. I had never felt closer to Shiloh—to anyone really—than I did in that moment. We’d both been through this. With the same men. Now at the same time. We would always have this connection. This moment.

Shiloh gave me a small smile. I reached up, touching his cheek. I wanted so badly to kiss him, but it would be awkward in this position. So we settled for watching each other, silently seeking solace in each other. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies are in order. AGAIN. Fuck, that's all I do these days, huh? 
> 
> But yes, this was late simply because I got stuck at work on Thursday, and had to stay later to cover a very irresponsible coworker of mine. In general, this past week SUCKED thanks to other people's shenanigans. Thus why I didn't upload yesterday, either. Once I got out of work, I just needed a LONG session of watching Among Us streams lol. And I was also so sick of looking at a computer screen that turning my laptop on to edit seemed like hell. 
> 
> Against my better judgement, I will upload another chapter tomorrow to make up for not posting on time. Which I think will be nice since it's not really a good chapter to wait a full week for lol. I mean, it's much lighter than this one, but it's also...a throwaway chapter. Just a scene I wanted to write to cut up some of the emotional heaviness of the upcoming chapters. 
> 
> Bleh. 
> 
> Anyway, if you did read this chapter, what did you think? Explains Andres' reaction when he was having sex with Lyle, huh? Likely not going to write more scenes like this (maybe one more for plot reasons, but that won't happen for a while), because it honestly wasn't fun writing this. I knew I had to in order to establish and explain Andres' intense reaction towards Josh, but it wasn't fun nonetheless. 
> 
> I kinda apologize for it; I honestly don't think it's even necessary. 
> 
> I think, tbqh, this will be my last story where I indulge in explicit depictions of sexual assault, general abuse, and the sort. If I have to include it in future stories (I'm sure I will given what I typically write about...), I'll more so leave it to characters to maybe talk about it or something. But no more this. Bleh. Bleh bleh bleh! 
> 
> Annnnnyway, my mother woke me up early leaving to go grocery shopping before the stores got packed. And I had trouble going to bed last night; so I'm TIRED af. I'm having troubles sleeping again, so I need to work on that. For now, I think I'll just spend the evening trying to get some writing done and watching more Among Us streams lol. 
> 
> Does anyone who watch Among Us streams/vids know Corpse Husband? Isn't it cool how he's blowing up? He seems like a great guy to have blow up, and I hope people don't get weird towards him or just ditch him once the Among Us hype dies down. Hmmm. We'll see. 
> 
> Ah, I have a new side story to my Faust City/Nation world that I'm working on. I only have one chapter down, so I want to write a couple more before I start uploading. It's going to be a side story to help when I have writer's block or need a break from this story. Much lighthearted and cute, and, as a teaser: LESBIANS! 
> 
> Writing guy MCs was a fun challenge, but I can't wait to write about gals again. 
> 
> I'll try to catch up on comments tonight! But leave me more please! You know I love them! Thank you!


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that there was an upload this week already; this is a surprise chapter. If you are returning after a while, be sure to read the previous chapter before this.

“He lives.”

Kelvin sat down across from me, his dark eyes heavy with bags. He gave me a glare as he leaned against the table. I had invited him to meet on Sunday for brunch, simply because the restaurant I knew of was pretty bougie and would throw him off. It was my cousin’s favorite place, with bright lights and minimalistic white fixtures that were perfect for taking pictures to post on blogs.

Kelvin hated places like this.

“Why did you pick the brightest place in the world to meet up?” Kelvin asked, ignoring my comment.

“Because I knew you’d be hung over,” I said easily, smiling at the waitress coming over to take our drinks. I ordered mimosas for both of us, and extra water for Kelvin. Kelvin picked up the menu to look through it. “You should try their tofu hash.”

“I don’t do tofu,” Kelvin grumbled.

I tapped my heel on the floor as I watched him. “Are you going to be an ass with this too? Because if so, you can leave.”

“Really?” Kelvin said casually as he flipped the menu over to look at the specials. “Aren’t I your go-to when your boyfriend isn’t around?”

The waitress came back with our drinks. I took both of the mimosas before Kelvin could reach for one, downing one glass immediately before asking the woman to give us another minute to look over the menu. When she was gone, I fixed an unamused look at Kelvin.

“So you are mad about Lyle.”

“Not at all,” Kelvin lied as he straightened up and leaned back in his chair. “Not about Lyle.”

“Where did you go last night?” I asked, since he obviously wasn’t going to answer me straight.

“To a bar, and then home.”

“What? Were we such bad company?”

“Just didn’t want to keep feeling like the fifth wheel.”

I rolled my eyes. “But this isn’t about Lyle.”

“It’s not. Not really.”

“Then why—”

“You have no idea how hard it is being your friend,” Kelvin said, sighing heavily and shaking his head.

“You two ready to order?” the waitress asked, back again.

I had to stop myself from telling her to fuck off. Kelvin shot her a weak smile, ordering for both of us. The fact that he somehow knew what I was going to order not lost on me. It didn’t make his words just then feel any warmer.

I was tired of hearing how difficult I was.

“If I’m so difficult,” I started, keeping my voice low—just so he knew how angry I was, “then why stick around this long? Everyone else had no problems distancing themselves when I got back. Or was it because I was still willing to fuck you?”

“This isn’t about that,” Kelvin said, looking tired as he watched me. “I’m not talking about that. Even before. We’ve been friends since we were kids, Andres. Do you have any idea what that was like?”

I finished the rest of my mimosa, waiting. I had no idea what the fuck Kelvin was talking about. Yes, Kelvin and I had been friends since we were kids. And, yes, he was one of the ones who didn’t get weird after I started skipping grades. All it did was give him something to tease me about. And when I teased him back for one thing or another, it turned into us wrestling on the ground with the other boys in the neighborhood edging us on.

Since then, that was our relationship. He shit talked me and I talked shit back. We fought, though not physically as we got older, and he noticeably bigger than me. But the dynamic never changed. Not even when I got back from the Willows. That was why I was happy he stuck around. It was why I even started sleeping with him. No matter what, _we_ didn’t change.

Until now. Now, all of the sudden, everything was a problem. And now, apparently, it’s always been a problem. I wanted to know why.

“It’s not really your fault,” Kelvin finally said, shrugging. “That was why I tried so hard to keep it in check, you know. But you were the local genius. Do you know how often my mother compared me to you all my life? Asking why I couldn’t get good grades like you, why I couldn’t spend more time studying than playing video games or sports.

“And you hitting all those milestones before us? High school graduation didn’t matter because you were already getting a degree. Who cared once I finished college because _you_ were in medical school.”

“So what?” I asked. “I shouldn’t have done any of that? You know it wasn’t really my choice to skip all those grades, right? My mo—”

“I know, Andres,” Kelvin snapped, rather unnecessarily. “That’s what I’m saying. My mom didn’t know about how the older kids picked on you. She didn’t know how lonely you were. She didn’t know how mad you got every time your mom pushed for you to skip another grade. She didn’t know that.

“That’s why I never got mad at you. Because I knew you never asked for any of it. And so when my mom would start bringing you up, I’d just ignore her. But it’s not like that was easy. And, fuck, Andres, you move out of your parents and get a house all on your own!”

Now I was lost. “Wait, what? You’re mad I got a house?”

Kelvin shook his head. “I kept asking you to go in on a house with me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were serious,” I said. “You’ve been living on your own since you were eighteen. I thought you thought you were doing me a favor or something.”

Kelvin looked at me, incredulously. “What?”

The waitress was back with our food, interrupting us. She offered to refill our mimosas, and after she left, silence fell between Kelvin and me.

“So,” Kelvin finally said after the waitress returned with mimosas and I didn’t steal his. “So why wouldn’t you think I was serious?”

“Because you rarely are?” I said. “And, I mean, you already had your own place. I didn’t think you actually wanted a house.”

“I don’t,” Kelvin said, picking at his omelet. “Not really. It’s just, you know, my mother.”

I did know Kelvin’s mother. Kelvin was the oldest of four boys, and as such, his mother constantly pushed him. She wanted Kelvin to be the perfect child her younger sons would look up to; the one whose successes were worth giving up her own dreams of domesticity and motherhood for.

Her overbearing nature was the very reason he moved out as soon as he could and never looked back. And while the situation did mean she had to back off, that didn’t mean he didn’t have to hear an earful every time he saw or talked to her. She always had something to criticize; something he was always doing wrong.

“What?” I asked, using my fork to cut into my waffles. “She’s pressuring you to find a girl to marry and settle down with again?”

“She’s dropped that for now,” Kelvin said rolling his eyes. “Or, more, I think she’s trying to make it happen in baby steps. She’s been harassing me for well over a year now to get a house instead of just renting.”

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with renting.”

“She’s pretending it’s about making sure I have space and so I could host parties and have people over without having to worry about my roommates. But I think she’s hoping that me having a house will attract some girl I’ll want to make a wife.”

“Gross,” I muttered. “Still don’t know what that has to do with me.”

“You were my out!” Kelvin moaned. “If we got a place together, it just looks like me helping you out. Being a good friend. Now with my roommates moving back home or to frigging Spain, I just look like a typical fuckboy too lazy to set up a real home.”

“You _are_ a fuckboy too lazy to set up a real home,” I reminded him. 

“Andres—”

“So what? You wanted to use my situation as pity to derail your mother?” I was really pissed now. “You’re mad at me for not being the perfect victim for you to make yourself look good?”

“I’m mad you don’t need me,” Kelvin snapped through his teeth. Bitterly. Then he looked away, embarrassed.

I felt my heart racing, my magic moving with the fury coursing through my body. The rational part of my brain was trying so hard to listen. To hear him out. But God was Kelvin making this hard as _fuck_.

“That’s what I mean,” Kelvin continued when I didn’t say anything. “You’ve always been in your own little world. Every milestone I’ve managed to hit before you, you been fazing me out. I’m not the guy to call up when you need a ride because you got your own car now. I’m not the guy to hit up when you’re horny because you got your boyfriend now. I’m not the spot to crash at because now you got your own house.”

Okay. Now this was something I could work with.

“It’s not like I was only friends with you for those reasons,” I told him.

“I know.” Kelvin sighed. “The same way I’m not only your friend just to feel needed or whatever. It just gets to me sometimes. You get the idea to do something and you just do it. You don’t consult anyone, you don’t ask for advice; you just do it. It’s like you don’t need anyone. Least of all, me. You didn’t even tell me when you were moving so I could help.”

“I’m not going to apologize for that,” I said, shrugging. “Everything I’ve been doing recently to be more independent is really important to me. Lyle is important to me. And I just—”

I paused, thinking. I felt like I was attacking Kelvin a bit. It was obvious he knew, logically at least, that his feelings of inadequacy were silly. But that didn’t mean he still didn’t feel the way he felt. It was easy for me to forget that humans were feeling beings who happened to be capable of thought; not the other way around.

The feelings came first; the rational was what came after we had time to process them.

“Okay,” I said, sighing now. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. That I didn’t consider including you in it all. I can apologize for that.”

Kelvin nodded, seeming to consider it. “Okay. And I can apologize for taking my frustration out on you. And disappearing last night without letting you guys know. Sorry.”

I smiled. “I think that’s the first conversation we ever had that didn’t end in an argument.”

Kelvin nodded towards our food. “Don’t say that yet. You’re insane if you think I’m paying for this bougie-ass brunch.”

I scoffed.

Yeah. I did speak too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. It's a chapter. 
> 
> I wanted to show more of Andres interacting with his friends, just because I feel bad for not doing more with them. I hate when friend characters are like minor background characters. But they'll play a major role soon. 
> 
> I'm glad Andres and Kelvin were able to work it out. Kelvin has a lot on his plate. I kinda liked this chapter if only because it's a good reminder that everyone is the main character in their lives. Despite everything Andres has going on, his friends still have lives too. And they got shit going on. I think Andres can be a bit self centered at times (not in an overly bad way; we're all like that), so I liked that he got this moment to remember that his friends DO want to be a part of his life. 
> 
> He did tell Blue when he was moving, but she had work. She helped later in the week as he was unpacking and stuff. But he never reached out to Kelvin at all. I know if my friend moved without telling me, I'd be PISSED. But he just assumed Kelvin wouldn't want to help and so he didn't bother asking. But that's why you don't assume things, you know. YOU GOTTA TALK IT OUT. 
> 
> I'm also highkey preaching to myself with that. Don't mind me lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm very sad and depressed. This was a pretty shitty weekend. I couldn't get out of bed to do anything fun or productive. A total waste. The only upside is I only have to work three days and then I get a nice four-day weekend for Thanksgiving. I don't particularly care to celebrate the colonizers' holiday, but it's the one time of the year my mother doesn't bitch about cooking dinner, and since I don't do Black Friday shopping, it's a nice extra day off to decorate the Christmas tree and just relax. 
> 
> I need a fucking break. These assholes at my job are trying to send me to an early grave. 
> 
> Anyway, as always, please leave me comments to help me out of my depressive mood. Please? Thank you as always for reading!


	54. Chapter 54

“Huh,” Dreama said, blinking at the practice test I had taken the day before. “He got a perfect score.”

I smirked. It was just the two of us and Mrs. Nydia in the center. No one had any appointments with us this week, which meant the week had been dedicated to making sure I was more than ready for the test. It was just a few weeks away, and I was finally feeling more confident.

“What am I supposed to review then?” Dreama asked Mrs. Nydia; who had handed her the test and told her to review it with me.

“Since he got everything right, review everything,” she said before settling behind her computer. “Obviously.”

Dreama muttered that that hadn’t been obvious, and my smile fell. If I had gotten one or two answers wrong, all I’d have to do is review those parts. But because I got everything right, I had to review _everything_? It was definitely Mrs. Nydia’s style, but it didn’t make me less annoyed.

“Alright,” Dreama said, flipping to the front of the test. “So, why do—”

The door opened rather dramatically, Zeke walking in and letting out a breath when he saw me.

“There you are!” he said, walking over and smiling. “C’mon! We’re all waiting on you.”

I blinked at him. “Waiting on me for what?”

“To leave! It’s annoying if we’re late. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked, standing. What was going on?

“Oh,” Mrs. Nydia said, not once looking away from her computer. “I forgot that was today.”

“Can someone tell me what is happening since I’m the only one who obviously doesn’t know?” I snapped, tired of everyone ignoring me.

“Our doctor appointments are today,” Zeke looked at me, as if confused.

I felt the room slow and my breath leave me. The doctor. Where I was supposed to get my number. Was that why Evan was taking a half day at work? But that aside, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to go through this without the doctor noticing my IUD. I had thought I had more time, but here it was. Now.

And I still hadn’t told Evan the truth.

“Did Evan not tell you?” Mrs. Nydia said, frowning. “I never said anything because I assumed he did.”

“I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zeke said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to the door. “C’mon. Everyone is looking for you.”

Dumbfounded, I let Zeke pull me out of the building and across the compound. My mind was racing, trying to figure a way out. I couldn’t go there without talking to Evan. I needed to tell Evan about my IUD. He needed to hear it from me.

“I need to talk to Evan,” I said, feeling dizzy as Zeke guided me towards the lot near the front of the compound. “Is there a way for me to call him or something?”

“At work?” Zeke frowned at me. “We shouldn’t be calling our husbands unless it’s an emergency. Besides, you’ll see him later. You can tell him how far along you are then.”

Zeke didn’t understand. There was no way for him to understand. Not without outing myself. And there was no way I could tell the compound fucking gossip about my IUD before Evan heard about it.

Zeke led me to the lot, emptier than it had been the last time I saw it. There was a sleek, black van rumbling not far from the gate, Mother and a young man in a black suit were standing by the doors at the back of the van. The man looked up, nodding at us as Zeke pulled us along. He brought his wrist up to his lips, talking into the watch.

“Zeke found Andres. Anyone got eyes on Shiloh?”

“Aaron reported him at home,” someone on the other end of the watch answered. “He’s stuck puking in front of the toilet.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Mother said, rolling her eyes. “Someone grab a bunch of bags for him to throw up in and get him here.”

“Mother says to bring him in,” the man in black said.

“Roger, Roger. Give me five.”

Mother sighed, looking at Zeke and me before nodding to the van. “In you go. Both of you.”

Zeke seemed a little disappointed that he couldn’t linger and listen in to the man in black’s watch, but he dutifully climbed into the van. I hesitated, watching the man take a few steps away to give out more orders.

“I didn’t know this was today,” I told Mother, trying to keep my panic at bay and speak calmly. “Is there a way I can talk to Evan before we leave?”

Mother blinked at me once. Then twice. “Whatever for?”

“I just, um…” I couldn’t think of anything plausible to lie about. “I just really need to talk to him.”

“Are you dying?” Mother asked, not impressed.

“No more than anyone else.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Not yet.

“Did you kill someone, and the body is likely to be found soon?”

I raised an eyebrow at Mother. Dark. “No.”

“Then I can’t imagine anything so important that you’d need to interrupt your husband’s work, and hold us up. Get in the van, Andres.”

I started to protest, but a burly man ran up, all but carrying Shiloh in his arms. He sat Shiloh down in the edge of the van, just in time for Shiloh to bend over and puke into a bag. I frowned. There was no way Shiloh was already pregnant. It couldn’t have been a good thing that he was throwing up.

Mother seemed to think the same thing because she was frowning at Shiloh.

“You both are wasting time,” Mother said, looking at the two men. “Get them in the van so we can leave.”

Before either of the men could touch me, I turned to hop inside. Mother moved to walk to the front of the van, and I was genuinely concerned that she was going to drive us. Serenity and Jake were sitting on one side of the van, while Tanya and Zeke sat on the other side. I slid in next to Jacob, who was staring resolutely at the ground and probably disassociating.

The burly man helped Shiloh inside, plopping him on the edge of the bench next to Zeke. He then slammed the door shut, a loud click echoing as he locked us inside. I frowned, looking at Zeke across the way.

“Do they have to lock us in here like that?” I snapped.

Zeke looked at me, incredulous, before glancing at Jacob. Jacob was too deep in his own thoughts to catch it.

“Yeah,” Zeke said, lightly. “I feel like it’s warranted this time.”

~*~

I wasn’t sure how long I spent in the back of that van panicking. I just knew that by the time the car stopped, and the door was unlocked and pulled open, I couldn’t hop out fast enough. Mother, I quickly noted, hadn’t driven; just took shotgun while the man in black drove. I thought it was interesting that one man was supposed to keep us all in line: it would be easy for all of us to overwhelm him and run.

But where would we run to? Looking around, we were in a business complex in what looked like a quiet, and affluent, suburban town. On the other side of the road were little boutiques and shops, a few mothers and children walking around, looking to spend the day in the nice weather before it was time to go home and greet their husbands from work.

I suddenly felt oddly trapped; ironic, given this was the first time we’d been off the compound in months. A child across the street was staring at us, pointing and probably asking her mother about the weird group of people in white. The mother glanced at us, but didn’t give us much concern before pulling her daughter into a shop. What an odd scene we must make, even in the Nation. It was funny how it was only now hitting me how closed off and insular the Willows was.

“Oh, Mother!” Zeke said, as she came around the back, obviously counting us. “They opened up a doughnut shop right there!”

Mother followed Zeke’s gaze before shrugging. “We don’t have time for that. Inside, children.”

Zeke wrapped an arm around mine, leading the way to the sidewalk and down past a few offices before we got to the one labeled an OBGYN.

“Make sure to behave,” Zeke said to me, smiling. “She acts like that, but if we’re good, she’ll buy doughnuts for us. I haven’t had one in years!”

I swallowed as I nodded.

The doctor’s office had a wide lobby that was just about empty. At the receptionist desk was a woman in scrubs, at a standing desk station, typing away while a talk show played on the TVs against each wall.

“Sit,” Mother said, gesturing towards the chairs against the walls. There was a woman with a sleeping baby sitting in one corner, who watched us warily. “Get comfortable. We’re going to be here a while.”

Mother walked over to the receptionist while I followed Zeke to a section that gave us the perfect view of the television cattycorner to the door. The man in black, I noted, sat in a chair by the door, facing us. Jacob slid on my other side, his eyes on the television while Serenity eyed a table filled with brochures.

“Is there only one doctor here?” I asked, glancing at the tv. It was a cooking show with a bubbly looking woman in a pink apron showing off a tray of rolled dough with herbs in it.

“Three, normally,” Zeke asked, already bored of the show and looking around for something in the lobby to entertain him. “They usually take us back pretty quickly, though, so hopefully we won’t be here too long.”

A nurse appeared at the door next to the receptionist, calling out a name. The woman with the baby stood, gathering her things, and taking her infant back. I glanced at the man in black, wondering if there was a way I could sneak out of the building despite him sitting there.

“I wish we were allowed to bake more,” Jacob said absentmindedly. “I’ve never tried an orange zest icing with sweet rolls.”

“I hate baking,” Serenity said on his other side, shrugging.

“It’s precise. It’s easier to know what’s going to happen than with cooking.”

“What? I never know how something is going to turn out. No matter how exact I follow a recipe, it always comes out wonky. With cooking, you can adjust as you go if you’re not feeling it.”

I zoned out while they debated that. All I could think about was Evan. Evan finding out about my IUD. Evan being angry. I had been working so hard building trust with Evan recently. I was very agreeable the second and third times we had Josh and Shiloh in our bed. When I woke up before him in the morning, I gave Evan head. I said yes and smiled. We’d been doing so frigging good.

This was going to throw everything off. There was no excuse. None that Evan would forgive. My only hope was to somehow tell Evan the truth before Mother or someone else got to him first. Though I had no idea how to do that.

Zeke was the first one called back, then Serenity and Tanya. Tanya was the first one who came back out of the three, looking happy to report that the baby was perfect, and she was cleared for an at-home delivery. Meaning that she would be able to have the baby at the Willows. Shiloh was called back next, just as Mother was walking back with Serenity in tow.

Serenity looked distant as she sat back down next Jacob.

“How did it go?” he asked her. 

Serenity blinked before looking back at us.

“It was very _thorough_.”

“What number did you get?” Tanya asked enthusiastically.

Serenity swallowed. “She gave me three numbers. She said given my age, six was a good number. But then she said that because they’ll all be done artificially, we’ll aim for four. Then she ended saying seven was the goal.”

“Oh, that’s pretty normal,” Tanya explained. “Seven is what you would have been given had you been born in the Nation. But we’re aiming for six since you’re getting a late start. I didn’t know they adjusted for insemination, though.”

“So what is my actual number?” Serenity asked her.

“Well, seven. But the Nation won’t punish you as long as you have at least four!”

I was about to ask Tanya what the fuck _that_ meant when a nurse near Mother walked up to the doorway.

“Andres?”

I swallowed, standing on shaky legs. Mother gestured for me to follow the nurse who escorted me back, pulling up the rear like she had with Serenity. I wondered how far she would follow me until the nurse brought me into an examination room.

There was nothing special about it, other than the posters showing the different stages of a fetus, and a warning about the impact of low body weights in pregnant people. The nurse took the basics: blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, height, weight, and the sort. Mother stood by the door through it all.

I was given enough privacy to piss in a cup before the nurse finally left us alone. Mother relaxed, sitting at the chair by the door while I waited on the examination table. She was scrolling through a tablet, a serious look on her face.

“Is there any way I can talk to Evan?” I asked her.

“Why are you harping on that?” she asked, looking up. “I know you don’t love my son _that_ much.”

“I—” I hesitated. If Mother stuck around for the next part of this exam, then she would know the truth anyway. “I have to tell him something.”

“What? That you’re not pregnant?”

“I—you knew I wasn’t pregnant?”

She sighed, crossing one leg over the other. “You don’t show any other symptoms. Only men would have no idea how to tell the difference. Let me guess: you’re infertile and you’ve been hiding it so we didn’t kill you?”

I watched her. She had a satisfied look on her face. As if she was sure this was the big secret I’d been hiding. It wasn’t. But she wanted it to be. Would she be happy if the Willows killed me?

I shook my head, feeling miserable. She was the last person I wanted to tell this to. She didn’t have my best interests at heart. She really hated me. And the quicker she could be rid of me, the better.

“I’ve been pregnant before,” I told her. “I miscarried, but it’s happened.”

“That made you infertile?” She frowned. “How far along were you?”

“You’re not getting it,” I pressed. “I’m not infertile. Not now. Not ever. But I’m _not_ _pregnant_.”

Mother looked at me, confused. She glanced down at the tablet, pushing and swiping for a few seconds before snapping her head at me. She stood, the action making me sit up straight.

“You weren’t on the pill,” she concluded.

I nodded.

“It couldn’t have been the shot; those only last a month. So either an implant or—”

“An IUD,” I finished for her.

Mother scoffed, rage settling on her face.

“You stupid, little _whore_.”

“I—”

“An IUD? Really? And how long would you have kept that secret if you weren’t brought here? Did Evan not tell you when this appointment was?”

“He didn’t!” I told her, panic sending my heart into a race. “If he did, I would have told him before this. I don’t want him to find out like this!”

“You’ve been here over three months, and you never told him. You never _wanted_ to tell him.”

I didn’t have an excuse for that. I lost track of time. I simply forgot. Nothing I said would be the truth. Nor believed. None of it mattered.

“I need to tell him,” I told Mother as she glared at me. “I have to be the one to tell him.”

Mother let out an exasperated breath, shaking her head.

“He’s at work. If I call him, he’ll think something is wrong. You’ll have to wait until you’re both back at the compound. But…”

Mother looked down at the tablet. She scrolled through it a bit.

“The records we keep are synched with whatever the doctors put down,” she explained, shrugging as she looked up at me. “I’d rather he find out by you telling him as soon as he gets home, but if he happens to look at your records before you do…”

“Would he?” I said, thinking out loud. “Even if he did look at it, wouldn’t he wait—”

“He thinks you’re pregnant.”

I felt my body go cold. And Evan had access to my records. He referenced it at times, like when I needed some ibuprofen for a really bad headache one day, or when Lex took my blood pressure the other day to show me how to enter it on someone’s chart on a tablet. We updated mine. Evan had asked me if something happened to cause Lex to check it. Meaning he likely would notice any updates. Especially if he was looking for news on a pregnancy.

I was fucked.

The door opened, an older man walking in with a tablet in hand. He nodded at Mother before looking at me.

“Andres Reyes?”

I nodded, hating that he was referring to me with Evan’s surname.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Kensington. Surrogate physicians here in the Nation are also certified OBGYNs, so we’ll be able to knock all of this out at once. You are a rescue from Faust City, correct?”

He spoke with a sharp efficiency, his voice not at all personable. He had a non-offensive look about him, with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses over a bulbous nose.

I hated him already.

“Yes,” I finally answered when it became apparent he was looking for one.

The doctor nodded. “Good. Want to make sure your chart has all the right information. Now—”

“He needs to tell you something,” Mother said with a pointed look at me. “Before we get started. It won’t be on his chart.”

Dr. Kensington looked at me, one of his eyebrows lifted. I sighed.

“I, um, I have an IUD,” I mumbled.

Dr. Kensington blinked at me before glancing down at the tablet. “Ah, your chart said you were on the pill before entering the country. How long have you been—”

“We were not provided the correct information at intake,” Mother said, politely.

Dr. Kensington looked at her with a frown before understanding. His frown then moved to me.

“Lying isn’t a good way to start your life here, young man,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Of all things to keep secret. I would have seen that during your examination. Why lie?”

I just shook my head, not in the mood to try—and fail—to explain myself to him. When he saw that I wasn’t going to answer, he shook his head before moving over to the examination table.

“Whatever the reason, it was stupid and silly. Even if you got pregnant within your next cycle, you’ll be twenty-six before you have your first child. Starting this late is a sin. This is not going to be easy for you.”

He continued like that as we started the exam. The beginning was standard stuff: he listened to my chest as I breathed and my heart, checked my spine, looked into my eyes and ears and down my throat. The whole shebang. After he made notes on the tablet, he then instructed me to lie back as he adjusted the table and set up the stirrups.

“Your hands are to stay above your waist at this point,” Dr. Kensington instructed as I felt his hands find the top of my pants. “Let’s not have to call for any help today.”

“He _is_ rather difficult,” Mother mused as I heard her walk over. I saw her appear by my head, a hand resting on the side of the table. “As I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That’s not true,” I said, turning my focus to her as the doctor pulled my pants and underwear off.

“See? Argumentative. My son should have picked a more agreeable bride.” 

“I can imagine. Your son at least knows what challenge he’s up for, I hope?”

“I don’t know. I think he expected his new wife to learn his place sooner.”

I laid there in silence as they spoke about me like I wasn’t there. I hated Mother. I hated how she made me sound like some difficult brat. I hated how she made it seem like I was always fighting Evan. I was insanely agreeable. Why was she telling this stranger I was a problem?

“Difficult wives just need a firm hand,” Dr. Kensington said, guiding my feet into the stirrups and standing to grab some things from a drawer. “He doesn’t seem particularly rude.”

The next part was difficult, which was the real reason I had gotten quiet. Even in the city, I hated gynecology exams. I hated the pinch from the pap smear, the way nothing could get me to relax enough for the speculum, and having my stomach pressed on.

This time wasn’t any easier. On top of the doctor giving Mother wife-rearing tips to pass on to Evan, he was rougher than my doctor back home. My stomach cramped when he took the IUD out, which made me tense throughout everything else. As a result, the speculum hurt when he kept widening it. And he inserted two fingers for the manual exam, which went on a lot longer than I felt was necessary.

“Good boy,” he praised when he finally removed his fingers. “We’ll need to order some blood tests, and I’d like to do the dye test just to confirm no blockages will get in the way. Didn’t feel any cysts, so we should be good on that front. I’ll go tell a nurse to get the x-ray room set up and pull the blood. I’ll be back to insert the dye once we’re set. After I look at that, we can establish his number.”

And with that, he left. And there was no one complaining when I moved to sit up.

“What dye test is he talking about?” I asked.

“It’s a standard fertility test,” Mother said, shrugging.

That was all she said.

“What do they do?” I pushed.

“It’s nothing to worry about, child. You need to let the doctor do his job so we can ensure you’re not useless.”

I snapped at that. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Meaning you better hope your tests come back that you’re as healthy and fertile as a bunny. The Nation has no need for an infertile broodmare, and Evan has no need for a barren wife.”

Mother’s words hit me hard, blunt as they were. I swallowed, no longer asking questions. She wouldn’t answer them properly anyway.

In general, it seemed that no one felt it important to tell me what was going on and why. When a nurse came in to draw blood, she didn’t tell me what was being checked. When the doctor returned with tubes and another speculum, he didn’t tell me what was happening. I was able to gather that he was pushing the dye into my cervix, and only then did I figure that an x-ray would show any blockages in my fallopian tubes, or any potential cysts or tumors.

The trip to the x-ray room was another twenty-minute affair. And by the time I was back in the original room, my stomach distantly crampy and Mother looking all too pleased with my discomfort, I was too exhausted to think of what was coming next. Not until the doctor returned, a smile on his face as he tapped away on the tablet.

“Very good news,” he said, more so to Mother than to me. “He’s in excellent health. Both physically and reproductively. No cysts. No blockages. We’ll update on the results of the blood test by the end of the week, and it’ll be smart to bring him back once his cycles start again so we can run a few more tests. But I can’t imagine any struggles to have get pregnant.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Mother said with zero enthusiasm in her voice. “Evan will be happy to get started in earnest, I’m sure. And his number?”

“Ah, yes. We’ll have to establish three with him being a rescue. Well, with his age, I mean. So, the original number will be ten—”

“ _Ten_?”

Mother and Dr. Kensington looked at me, annoyance in both of their faces. I obviously wasn’t supposed to respond to that, especially with as much disdain as I knew my voice had when I heard that. But that was insane. Ten? I was expected to have ten babies?

“So,” Dr. Kensington continued, as though I hadn’t spoken, “his adjusted number will be seven. Seems like a good goal to aim for. Though his actual will be four for now. Even if he starts now, he’ll start getting into the high-risk space by then. We can reassess from there.”

Now I understood why Serenity had been confused. So how many children did I have to have? Only four? Or the seven? Or would the Nation really try to pull ten from me?

“My suggestion is for us to watch how he handles the first child,” Dr. Kensington said as Mother’s hands scribbled notes onto the tablet. “From there, we might want to consider hormonal aids. If he handles the first one fine, then trying to shoot for multiples in one pregnancy will be an option. A few twins or triplets will help him reach more favorable numbers.”

“I’m sure Evan will consider that,” Mother said, standing and smiling at the doctor. “Thank you so much.”

The doctor and Mother said their goodbyes before I was instructed to get dressed again. Mother stuck around, updating my file and looking satisfied with herself.

“Aren’t you lucky?” she teased. “You’re as fertile as sin.”

“Isn’t that good news?” I all but snapped.

She hummed, shrugging. “I’m going across the street. You will come with me.”

I blinked, wondering what that was about. I followed Mother outside of the room and back in the lobby. Jacob and Zeke were missing, though Shiloh was back. Mother walked over to him, looking down at him.

“Did Zeke go back with Jacob?” she asked.

“Yes,” Shiloh answered dutifully.

“Perfect,” she said, looking at Serenity and Tanya. “Andres and I are stepping outside for a second. We’ll be back before it’s time to leave. Do not give Roger a hard time.”

They all nodded as Mother walked over to Roger still by the door. He watched me suspiciously as Mother told him we were heading across the street. But then she asked if he had any requests, and he got energetic when he asked for a cinnamon glaze.

It was then that I remembered the doughnut shop across the street. Mother walked us over there, less people out, but enough to watch us suspiciously in our all white. She pulled a white wallet out of her dress pocket, as we walked inside.

It was oddly normal. It was a small little shop with doughnuts lining the wall in glass. There was a young woman at the register who greeted us, asking us if we wanted to try some weird sourdough doughnut combination. Considering how big and gourmet looking the doughnuts behind the glass looked, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Aside from the typical glazed and chocolate covered delights were rainbow colored creations with different icing, glazes, and fruit for toppings.

“Find one you like,” Mother told me as she looked at a lemon based one with blueberries on top.

“I’m surprised you’d be willing to treat me,” I said, keeping my voice low as the girl at the register kept a rather close distance, ready to jump into action once we were ready to order.

“If I give everyone else a doughnut and not you, won’t that look suspicious?” Mother said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Then you’d have to explain to the others why you’re being punished.”

I sighed, finding a strawberry glazed doughnut. It was simple, but I loved strawberries. Mother ordered a dozen, including my strawberry one, and we were back by the van just as Roger was guiding everyone back in it.

Jacob looked miserable as he climbed into the van, though Zeke was pulling up the rear and saw us. His face lit up as he saw the box I was holding.

“You got doughnuts?” he exclaimed, as if genuinely surprised. “Wow! Thank you, Mother!”

I waited for everyone else, including Roger and Mother to pick theirs before I reached for mine. As everyone settled into their seats, either quietly eating or chatting about whatever news came up from their checkups, I slowly picked at my doughnut. I couldn’t even taste it. We were on our way back, and I needed to tell Evan the truth.

I should have picked something I wouldn’t like. Like the peanut butter chocolate one I saw. I hated peanut butter, but at least that way I would be eating something that was more in line with the way I felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gooble gooble bitches. 
> 
> Anyone else insanely depressed right now and worried about how the rest of winter is going to go when the solstice hasn't even happened and I'm already THIS depressed? 
> 
> Just me? Ah. 
> 
> So this chapter. I am warning you now: from here on out, things are going to be emotionally HEAVY. I'm trying to get everything to the climax, which means a few more plot beats before the final action sequences. As such, ngl, it's kind of an emotional downhill from here. That's not to say there won't be ANY happy moments, but the plot is going to speed up, so things are going to get DARK. Warning you guys now, okay? Happy ending as always, but LOTS of pain to get there. 
> 
> I'm also without glasses right now, and it was too late to pop my contacts in, so if you see more mistakes than usual, I am struggling over here. Yesterday at work, my left contact just tore in my eye. Thankfully it didn't break apart and making me have to hunt in my eye for the pieces, but it meant I spent the last, like, three hours of the day half blind. I think I made one of my customers laugh because when I was confirming his email address, I missed a letter and just went, "I'm sorry, one of my contacts tore in my eye so I'm half blind right now" lol. I think he was concerned, but I explained it wasn't serious. Just meant I could only really see out of one of my eyes lol. 
> 
> I only have one more pair of contacts, but thankfully I have an eye doctor's appointment on Tuesday, and I'm getting glasses this time. Contacts are nice for a host of reasons, but I need glasses. I'm going to get glasses, and then try to buy six more months (or maybe a year? Idk, I'll see how my money is after I get my holiday bonus) of contacts. I might just buy six more months now, and then another six months once I get my refund next year, and that will at least last me until next year. 
> 
> Next year, I'm going to get updated contacts at my eye doctors, but go to America's Best for an eye exam and that two for $80 or whatever special they do for eye glasses. And at least have an updated eyeglasses prescription next year where I can buy glasses online if need be. This year, I'm going to get a copy of my glasses subscription as well and buy a few backup pairs of glasses online. It's always good to have a few pair, and I can keep a pair at work so that way if I have a situation where my contacts snap or whatever, I'm good. 
> 
> It's always good to have glasses even if you have contacts too because sometimes your eyes get tired or irritated, and it's good to be able to take them out. I think the reason my contacts tore was because my eyes were irritated, and I kept rubbing them. If I had my glasses, I would have just switched them out, but I didn't, so I was trying to make it work. Tbqh, I'm just tired of never having my glasses anymore. Contacts are convenient in ways, but I think I always prefer glasses. They're easier to manage, you can wear them up until you go to sleep, unlike contacts where you have to take them out before getting ready for bed. Like, I like contacts as an option for when I go out to the beach, or if I'm going to an event, or I just don't feel like looking nerdy for a day. But I like the option. Not having the option is just painful. 
> 
> If I order my glasses on Tuesday, I might be lucky and get them by next weekend. BUT it's also likely that I'll get them mid to late next week. I can last that long, I know, but I can't wait until I get a new pair of glasses. :3 I want square thick rimmed ones this time. My last ones were thick rimmed, but more rectangular than square. I get hipster glasses always lol. I found an old picture of me with the wider frames, and I liked them. I didn't dislike the smaller ones; I'll likely buy another pair online when I get my prescription. But I want big ones because they looked really nice on me. 
> 
> Getting that blue light filter too. Fuck electronic induced insomnia! 
> 
> Okay, so weren't we talking about this story? This story. Yes. So, Andres is in a pickle, eh? He really shouldn't have pushed off telling Evan, but I would have too in his shoes. I wonder what will happen next? What do you guys think? 
> 
> Leave comments! Speculate! Fulfill my need of engagement! 
> 
> Thank you as always!


	55. Chapter 55

We made it back before lunch was over, albeit just barely. I could already see a few people from the kitchens cleaning up the empty saucers and bowls that would have been filled with food from today’s lunch menu. A young girl saw us coming out of the lot and frowned.

“Sit down and eat, all of you,” Mother was instructing. “That little treat on the way back was not at all a meal replace…”

I followed her gaze: off to the side of the table were Evan and Father. They seemed to be discussing something important; two boys ran around them in a game of tag, and they didn’t even flinch. Evan was back earlier than usual, even for a half day. I wondered if that was what made Mother lose her train of thought.

Mother shooed the others to the table before walking over to greet her husband and son. I stood frozen, watching Evan and Father break apart as Mother approached. Watching Evan to see if his back was straighter than usual, or if his jaw was set tightly. Something, anything, that would let me gauge what sort of mood he was in.

But he didn’t look particularly stiff, nor tense. He was smiling as his mother spoke to them, almost carefree. His eyes finally found mine, and I didn’t see any hardness in them. Deciding to stop acting suspicious, I walked over and joined them. Evan quickly pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.

“So how did it go?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Fine.”

There was a lull as everyone watched me. I didn’t know what they were expecting. I glanced at Mother, who raised an eyebrow. When I still didn’t say anything, she gave me a pointed look down. Around where my stomach—

Oh.

“I’m not pregnant,” I told Evan. His face didn’t falter. “But everything else was fine.”

“His original number is ten,” Mother added, Father looking surprised at that.

I glanced at her. “But the doctor said four, right?”

“No, child. Four is what you need to hit so that the Nation stays off our back. Your goal here will be ten.”

I opened my mouth to say something, protest probably, but Evan beat me to the punch.

“Is that a problem, _mi sol_?”

Despite the pleasant lilt in his voice, the threat was apparent.

“No,” I said. “Of course not.”

“Wonderful. Nothing else to note?”

I looked at Mother again. She wasn’t giving me any help. I was on my own with this.

“Um,” I wasn’t sure how to even say it. But I knew I had to. He hadn’t mentioned it yet, so he might not know. _I_ had to tell him. Now. “I, um, there’s a reason why I’m not pregnant.”

There was a pause. I couldn’t look at Evan; there was no way I could face him while I said this.

“Continue, Andres,” Evan ordered when I didn’t keep going.

I nodded. Okay.

“I had an IUD,” I blurted. Might as well rip that bandaid off. “It’s out, now, but that’s why I’m not pregnant.”

Another bout of silence. I looked up at Evan then, expecting cold fury. Hot anger. Something. Some kind of reaction. But instead, I was met with a gentle and calm demeanor.

“Is that all of it?” he asked.

I blinked.

He knew.

He must have done exactly what Mother predicted: he looked at my information once it was updated. Probably expected baby news. Instead, he was met with my treachery. And he knew before I had even stepped foot back on the compound.

He must have just wanted to see if I would own up to it.

My heart was racing, dread filling my stomach, heavy as lead. I didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” I tried.

Evan did react to that: he closed his eyes for the longest two seconds of my life before reopening and watching me like a hawk.

“You’re sorry,” he repeated. “You had an IUD this entire time, and you’re sorry.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, Andres. I’m just listening to what you have to say. Was there anything else, or are you finished?”

“I’m done,” I snapped.

“Okay. Evan leaned down, surprising me with a swift kiss before straightening and turning to his mother.

“Mother, Andres and I will be joining you and Father for dinner at the house tonight. We’ve already discussed it.”

Mother blinked, obviously surprised.

“Of course,” she said with a glance up at Father. “This will be the first time we’ve had you over since you’ve been married.”

“Quite. As such, I’d very much appreciate you entertaining Andres at the house after you’ve finished lunch. Father and I will be spending the afternoon in prayer.”

Mother nodded, her face serious.

“Yes, Evan. Of course.”

Evan nodded. There was a brief flurry of goodbyes, Evan kissing me once more, before he and his father headed off towards the church. Mother wrapped an arm around mine, guiding us to the table.

“I must say, Andres,” she started, her voice light, “I have never in my life seen my son so incredibly angry.”

I stopped in my track, feeling panic jolt through my veins. I turned to her.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I obviously didn’t say the right thing.”

Mother sighed. “What’s done is done, child. You think yourself God if you believed something you could say would wipe away your sins.”

Nothing about that was comforting.

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

“I recognize my limitations, child. I am not God; I do not know.”

“ _He’s your son_. You have to know him well enough to have an idea!”

“My son is not my husband,” Mother snapped back. “If he were, he would have walked you up on that platform, called the congregation to inform them of your transgression, and then beat you until you were too weak to beg him to stop.”

I winced, the image of that terrifying. Mother took a breath in and out, visibly calming herself.

“Go sit with your friends and eat, Andres,” she said, heading to her spot at the head. “Whatever you imagine will be worse than what will be.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I took advantage of the dismissal and found where Zeke, Shiloh, and Serenity were still eating. I sat down at the end of their group, looking at the tomato soup and sandwiches still left on the table. I didn’t have an appetite, but I also knew that not eating was not an option. Especially right now.

“Just tell me,” Zeke was saying to Shiloh, his voice playful. “We can all tell you’re pregnant.”

“No, I’m not,” Shiloh lied. “My period hasn’t been back long enou—”

“He’s obviously still in the first trimester,” Zeke said to Serenity. “And I get it, but c’mon! You’ve been throwing up the better part of this week.”

“It’s the flu,” Shiloh said to Zeke, his face serious.

Zeke sighed, rolling eyes.

“Fine. You’re _not_ pregnant.” He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “What about you? How far along are you?”

“I’m not,” I said, pushing the tomatoes off a ham and cheese sandwich.

“Another first trimester? What, did you two get pregnant at the same time?”

I dropped my sandwich, turning full body to Zeke.

“I’m not pregnant,” I hissed at him, “because up until a couple of hours ago, I’ve had an IUD inside me.”

Watching Zeke process that was, actually, hilarious. I could see the initial confusion; likely wondering why Even would allow that. Then he blinked, and it hit him that Evan likely didn’t know. Another blink, and there was the shock of my lie. One last blinked settled into a glare.

“You told me at intake that you were on the pill,” Zeke said, his voice low and accusatory.

“Yeah,” I said. “ _I lied._ ”

“Oh my God,” Shiloh gasped while Serenity went still across from us.

“Are you crazy?” Zeke asked, looking around to see if anyone could hear us. The table was almost completely empty aside from a few students who got back from class not long before us, and some elderly couples who were always slow at meals. “Why would you do something so _stupid_? They were going to find out eventually.”

“Better than having my rapist’s baby.”

Shiloh’s mouth fell open while Zeke tensed.

“Andres,” Serenity scolded quietly, looking around.

But I didn’t care. What more did I have to lose at this point?

“You truly are an idiot if that makes sense to you,” Zeke said. “Evan—”

“Is my fucking _rapist_ ,” I said to him, defiant. “He kidnapped me, now he gets to rape me every fucking day.”

“He is your _husband_.”

“You mean he forced me to marry him. So now I’m married to my rapist.”

“Do you really think you’re special?” Zeke snapped then. “Do you think _I_ want to be here? In this strange country where I couldn’t understand anyone? I had no idea what was going on the first two years I was here! Eventually, Andres, you get with the program.”

I really couldn’t care at the moment. I couldn’t sympathize or care about Zeke’s story. I didn’t care where he came from before the Willows. I didn’t care that he secretly hated it but learned how to submit. In that moment, all I could focus on was my anxiety, my fears, and my hatred of the Willows. So I didn’t hold back in my response.

“Fuck the program.”

Zeke scoffed, grabbing a sandwich and standing. “ _Fuck you_. I’m not letting you get me so worked up I miscarry again. Let me know when you’ve gained some sense.”

And in a huff, Zeke was gone, heading to his house. I focused on eating my sandwich, each bite like chewing sand. I saw Shiloh and Serenity exchange a look. I swallowed my food, ready to pounce on whichever one of them wanted to be next.

“No one’s _mad_ , Andres,” Shiloh started.

Shiloh it was then.

“It just doesn’t make sense. Even if you did it at first, you should have said something before now. I mean, you’ve been here three months, and—”

“You really want to go down that route?” I sneered. “Weren’t _you_ the one telling me how you spent four years starving yourself so you wouldn’t get pregnant with Josh’s baby?”

Shiloh blinked at me once. Then twice. Then, without another word, he stood, loading up his plate with sandwiches. He turned his back to me, walking down to the end of the table before sitting back down so he could finish eating.

I smiled. Taking my frustration out on people was pretty fun. I turned to Serenity who was frowning at me.

And then there was one.

“You want a shot?” I asked her, ready to go.

“I’m tired of being other people’s punching bag, so no, thank you,” she said, unimpressed. “Though now I really understand why Jacob hates you.”

I blinked. I wasn’t sure why, but that did actually throw me off a bit. What did Jacob have to do with anything?

“I feel really bad for him,” Serenity continued, building up her own plate. “This whole time, he probably cursed himself for being so unlucky that he got pregnant first. I had to wait until this appointment so I could start all the fertility stuff, and now, it turns out, you had an IUD. Poor kid never stood a chance.”

She had a point there. I already knew Jacob resented how easy this seemed to be for Serenity and me. And I couldn’t blame him: our spouses weren’t belligerent assholes. We also were old enough to know how to not make things harder for ourselves. And this entire time, we both didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant.

Jacob really was on his own here.

“Are you going to tell him?” I asked, feeling my previous anger deflate.

Serenity watched me for a moment, apathetic. Then she stood, taking her plate with her.

“You should be the one to do it, but I have a feeling we’re not going to be seeing you tonight. So yes, I will. If only so he doesn’t hear it from someone else.”

And with that, she left to join Shiloh at the end of the table. I watched them for a second before turning back to my own food. Now that I had successfully isolated myself, I could fully wallow in my misery. And so I did, thinking of Jacob, of home, and of whatever Evan was going to do to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was something oddly satisfying about writing this chapter. I think it was because I got to show how petty Andres can be when he wants to be. And that he named Evan his rapist. THAT, in particular, was very satisfying reading back. 
> 
> I think it's also satisfying writing characters sort of do something wrong. Like, objectively wrong, but you can understand it. Still sympathize with it. It's so much like how life is, right? A lot of times, we do things that aren't nice or kind. Zeke, I think, really got mad. But Shiloh saw Andres' behavior as the tantrum it was, so he just disengaged. 
> 
> I think Serenity is just really disappointed. 
> 
> Jacob really didn't stand a chance...
> 
> I think I'm going to stop torturing my boy. He deserves better. 
> 
> Ahhh, as for Andres, I think he's just really scared. But there's nothing he can do! The truth is out and Evan is MADDDDD. 
> 
> Warning for the next few chapters: things get heavy and DARK. Someone told me they were going to wait out the next few chapters because they didn't want to get a rough cliff hanger! Cheater! Lol. Jk. 
> 
> But please read weekly and leave comments. I feed on them. 
> 
> No major life updates. I took a day off work tomorrow because fuck them bitches lol. I just got my mid-year eval, and my boss really rained down the praises. I had to admit that it kind of rejuvenated me. Yesterday, I was in such a good mood. And even though I was stressed with all the work overload today, I still managed to get everything done! I was very productive! 
> 
> I guess all the showing up, consistently, AND BEING THE ONLY ONE DOING THAT, was getting to me a bit. And I didn't realize how much I needed a pat on the back until my boss gave it to me. And I was like "Shit. Wow. Maybe I won't quit tomorrow" lol. 
> 
> I still want to set the intention that I'll be in a position a year from now to quit. I don't think it will happen realistically, but I want to set the intention so that I do the work behind the scenes to make some moves that could allow me to quit in the near future. I gave myself five years and I've been back three as of this past summer. Meaning this upcoming summer is 4, and by the time I reach 5 years, I promised myself I'd start paying into the company's 401k and I do NOT want to do that lol. 
> 
> I think I'm going to hard define my focus and intentions for 2021. I really need to make some moves. 
> 
> Either way, I am off tomorrow. I guess maybe I could do an upload tomorrow...I mean...this chapter WAS pretty short, wasn't it? 
> 
> Idk...
> 
> Maybe...?
> 
> Hmmmmmmmm...
> 
> Anyway, what do you guys think? Thanks as always!


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. This chapter is the second one posted this week. Please make sure, especially with this chapter, that you read the previously one.

“Does this normally take this long?” I asked.

Mother looked at me from the end of the table. She’d been quietly thumbing through a copy of the Bible since the food had arrived. She marked her place and closed it when I spoke, raising an eyebrow at me.

“You’ve been antsy all afternoon,” she said. “I’ve never seen a wife so excited to be disciplined.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. I’d been antsy because I had to spend the entire afternoon alone with her in this unnecessarily big house. Her idea of “entertaining” was opening up that pristine Bible of hers, and preaching at me for hours about what God demands of wives.

I was ready for anything that wasn’t her droning voice, even if it meant the evening over Evan’s lap.

We were in a small dining room that I was almost certain wasn’t the actual dining room. The table was small, designed only to seat four it seemed. There was also an ugly dark brown carpet, and pictures of angels and biblical scenes over the outdated, pinstriped wallpaper lining the walls. I was sure the actual dining room looked nicer. It probably even had a chandelier.

Mother had taken her sat at one end, her back to the door. I, she had instructed, needed to sit on her right. That way Father could take his place at the head, opposite her, and Evan at _his_ right hand, opposite me. The fact that there were politics on where to sit for dinner was exhausting.

I looked at the Bible now sitting on the side of her untouched plate while we waited for our husbands to join us.

“So you really believe in all of this?” I asked her, nodding at the Bible. “All of it?”

Mother took a sip of her water, watching me. Just when I was sure she wasn’t going to answer me, she spoke.

“Of course, I do. You should as well. Or did you lie about that during intake as well?”

I wasn’t sure, for a moment, what she was talking about, but then I remembered when Father questioned me about my faith. I said that I wanted to know God. It had been a lie. But I was already in trouble for one lie I told during intake; I didn’t want to suffer another one.

“I said I wanted to believe in God,” I said, looking away. “But sometimes I just wonder.”

“Wonder what, child?”

Oh, she was going to push me on this.

“Wonder what if we’re wrong.”

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it? At least we can die saying we served something greater than ourselves.”

I blinked to keep from rolling my eyes. That was not good enough. At all. But I was an idiot if I thought I was going to get something engaging. I glanced at the door again, Evan and Father nowhere in sight.

“I’m well aware,” Mother said when I never responded, “that we could be wrong. I thought of it often when I was a girl. That I could spend my entire life this way, and when it all ends, be reincarnated. Or maybe become a ghost, or linger in limbo. Or maybe hell and heaven are real, but I still lived in a way that lands me in hell. Or, maybe, this is it, and there’s nothing after we die.

“In that case, I’d rather pick an ending I can believe in. Settle on an option that doesn’t fill me with existential dread every minute of every day. Don’t you agree?”

I did not. Not at all. But I didn’t say that. It wouldn’t be fair to try to force her to think differently. It wasn’t like I had all the answers. If this worked for her, she had no incentive to change. I sure as hell wasn’t going to convince her otherwise.

“Tell me, child,” she said, tipping her glass of water, pulling it back before it could spill. “Tell me child. Do you think of death?”

I met her eyes, dark and haunting. Cold.

“No,” I admitted. “Not often, anyway.”

“As is the way of youth.”

“I’m not _that_ young.”

“No. you’re _not_.” That had been a slight. I frowned as she continued. “So, what do you think happens after we die?”

I shrugged. “Likely nothing. Everything just stops. But in actuality, I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t scare you? Not knowing?”

“No. Not really. Typically, not knowing is a learning opportunity. To find out—”

“Such a little scientist, you are,” Mother yawned. “Would you like to learn, then, what happens after death?”

I paused. Was that a threat?

“I imagine I will one day,” I said carefully.

“Hmm? Really? The way you behave, I sometimes wonder if you’d like to learn sooner rather than later.”

I swallowed. So, it was a threat.

“No,” I answered. “I’m not in a rush to know.”

“Then you should act like you value life, Andres,” Mother said with a humorless smile. “Especially if you believe the Lord only blesses us with this one.”

My breath hitched as I watched her, the uncertainty of what was coming next hitting me like a ton of bricks. Was that the ultimatum Evan was going to give me? He had told me once before that he would have killed me had I fought during the raid. Did he plan to make do on that?

“What’s going to happen?” I asked her. “When he gets here? What is he going to do?”

“Now, Andres,” Mother purred with a catlike smile, “God forbid I rob you of this wonderful learning opportunity.”

I scoffed, then let her words set in. I couldn’t stop the smile from crawling up my lips until a chuckle escaped them.

“That’s funny,” I told her honestly. “You’re funny.”

“I’ve been told I have my moments,” she said, matching my smile. “Though I wasn’t lying earlier; your imagination will come up with far worse than what will actually happen.”

I didn’t respond, shocked that she was even trying to comfort me. It was like whiplash with her. Still in that one second, I valued the solidarity.

Who knew how long it would last?

We both heard the door open at the front door. Mother was quick, standing and turning to face the door. She glanced at me, gesturing for me to do the same. I did, having just enough time to take a calming breath in and out before Evan and Father entered the room.

Evan had changed out of the suit he had earlier and into the Willows’ standard white. His face was also a bit flushed, his short curls looking wet. Father looked similar with his dark hair plastered against his red forehead.

I didn’t have long to dwell on why they both looked hot and sweaty; Evan walked up, pulling me into his arms and kissing me possessively. I didn’t fight him, though I was too surprised to respond properly.

He broke, seemingly right when Father also pulled away from greeting Mother, and moved to take his seat. Following Mother’s lead, I didn’t sit until Evan was settled across from me and gestured for me to do so.

“I’m sorry we took so long,” Father said as everyone was seated. “I hope the food isn’t cold.”

“We hardly noticed any delay,” Mother sang, smiling pleasantly. “Besides, waiting for her husband is a joy for a wife.”

Father smiled brightly at her and I had to hold back a gag. I looked across the table at Evan, who was watching me intently with a distant smile on his lips.

“Evan,” Father said then. “Would you like to lead us in grace?”

“I’d love to,” Evan responded, placing his hands out for his parents. He waited until all of our hands were joined before starting. “Heavenly Father, we come before you thankful for this moment you have bestowed us. We thank you for your communion and blessings, this meal to nourish us, and this community you have ordained for us. Please continue to guide and bless us, Father God, and continue to lead our fellowship with love. Amen.”

We all followed in praise, letting go of each other’s hands to unwrap the plates the kitchen dropped off. Fall vegetable stew with smothered cubed steak and potatoes. It had cooled considerably, but was still warm enough to eat.

Even still, I had no appetite.

“Andres.”

I met Evan’s eyes as he nodded to my plate. I picked up my spoon to start on the stew.

“This is nice,” Mother mused as we all ate. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve all eaten like this.”

“Yes,” Evan said, watching me as he spoke. “Next time, we’ll do it under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Oh, I don’t consider this an unpleasant event. Every wife will need a correction at some point in their marriage.”

Evan didn’t respond, and when I looked up, he was still watching me. I immediately started cutting up my steak. Evan didn’t take his eyes off me until I had taken a very hearty bite.

“I will amend, Mother,” he responded to her, “that Andres will be getting more than a correction tonight.”

My fork fell out of my hand with a clatter. I didn’t have to look to see that all of them were looking at me. I reached to pick it up, surprised to see my hand was shaking.

Why? What was I so afraid of? Mother said my imagination was worse than what he would actually do. So, what was I afraid of?

“Andres, please,” Evan sighed. “No one wants this to take all night. Hurry up and eat so we can get started.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that maybe I could eat if he weren’t making barely concealed threats, but his mother beat me to the punch.

“He’d probably have an easier time eating if it were something more familiar. Like rice and beans?”

“Rumi,” Father scolded before I even had time to process the racist shit that just came out of her mouth.

“I apologize,” she conceded, her pleasant mask back on. “I just know how hard all the men work to ensure we can be so well fed. It’s a bit frustrating when spoiled children can’t appreciate it.”

“Mother,” Evan said, sounding bored as he cut up his steak. “If I ever hear you say something that vile to my wife again, you will be forbidden from interacting with your grandchildren. God forbid you speak that way in front of them.”

Mother’s eyes went wide as she looked at Father. But from the satisfied look on his face, he was siding with Evan. So Mother swallowed her pride—quite literally—and nodded.

“Yes, Evan. My apologies.”

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, with light chatter between Father and Evan. Once all the plates and bowls were clean, Evan and Father stood. Mother was quick to follow, and me only after a brief hesitation.

Father and Mother led the way, Evan taking one of my hands, and all but dragging me down the hall.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Evan asked me.

I didn’t, though I was worried over why he was asking.

“No,” I answered, my voice a whisper.

“Are you sure?”

I blinked away tears. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

His parents led us to the room that Mother had entertained Serenity, Jacob, and me after Evan’s fight with Declan. Everything was the same other than the chairs. There were four now, and placed in an odd formation. There was one facing the door, another in front of it with the back facing the door while two more were on either side.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how this was going to work.

Evan quietly walked me to the center chair as Mother and Father took the seats on my side. I watched as Evan walked back to the door, shutting it. He lingered there for a few moments before walking back. Predictably, he sat in front of me, his eyes meeting mine.

“Are you ready to begin, Andres?”

My heart started to race. Begin what? That was what I wanted to ask. But I knew better. So I nodded.

Evan sighed.

“Andres, please. This is day one stuff. When I ask you a question, you answer verbally.”

A sob tore through my chest, surprising me. I placed a hand over my mouth, swallowing it as I blinked away tears. He hadn’t done anything yet. What the fuck was I crying for?

“Yes,” I said once I collected myself. “I’m sorry. Yes.”

Evan watched me, shaking his head.

“I get no joy from this, Andres. I _hate_ that I have to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Don’t apologize until he’s done,” Mother instructed. Her voice soft. “It’ll be easier for him to believe you then.”

I blinked at her for a moment. Once I understood what she was saying, I turned to Evan. Gone now was my fear, replaced with fiery hot anger.

“You don’t _believe_ me?” I demanded.

My reaction obviously surprised him. He raised an eyebrow at me, as if regarding a wild animal.

“Surely an apology at this point is just to stave off punishment,” Mother explained.

Taking a page from his book, I kept my eyes on Evan as I responded.

“And surely an apology afterwards is just to appease the man punishing me. Both seem disingenuous to me.”

“Reel it in,” Evan warned.

“Are you fucking with me?” I snapped, ignoring Mother’s gasp. “It’s my body, you know. How dare you want to punish me for doing what I want to it.”

“You’re not in Faust City anymore. I am your husband, and—”

“And what?” I stood, meeting his steely gaze. “I’m not here by choice. You _forced_ me here! You killed two people in front of me, and literally held a gun to me and told me to behave! I had no obligation to you! So what if I lied about what fucking birth control I was on?”

Evan stood, his eyes hot with anger. I stood my ground, daring him to move against me. To strike me. I almost wanted him to do it; to prove right here and now that he was a violent brute like Declan. Like his father whom Mother claimed would beat her in public. Like any other piece of shit man in the Willows—no, the entire Nation.

“Evan, do not reward his bad behavior,” Father said suddenly.

I snapped my head at Father, surprised to see his hard look at me. When I turned back to Evan, he was already letting out a breath, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

No. That wasn’t what I wanted.

Evan sat down, looking up at me, his hazel eyes now patient. Waiting.

“Maybe,” Mother said after a beat, “we can acknowledge that our rescues missions can be a bit _traumatic_. Especially for any refugees from the city or out of the country?”

Evan regarded her before nodding.

“I believe that’s fair.”

“And, perhaps, we could admit that, giving those circumstances, it would be hard for said rescues to trust us? In the beginning, at least.”

Evan nodded again.

“While I prayed on this, the Lord emphasized patience. We do throw a lot on our rescues. I can sympathize with how overwhelming that may be.”

Feeling odd to still be standing, I sat down. I had no idea where this was going.

“Given all of this” Mother continued, “we cannot fault him for his initial lie.”

“We can be _understanding_ ,” Evan corrected, warning in his voice. He turned back to me. “Tell me, Andres: was it easier to submit to me in bed when you knew there was no chance of it resulting in a pregnancy?”

I looked away, feeling sick. I thought of Jacob: that had to be part of why he fought so hard. None of us wanted to get pregnant. I sure as hell didn’t.

“It was not a rhetorical question, Andres,” Evan said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I expect an answer.”

I glanced at Mother, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe. Probably?”

“I can imagine it must have been. Do you know how long you’ve been here, Andres?”

“At least three months.”

“One hundred and four days.”

I blinked. Wow. It hadn’t felt quite that long.

“When I spoke to the Lord today,” Evan continued, “my first compliant was trust. You lied to me, to us, that first day. But we’ve been married one hundred and four days, and you kept that lie going the entire time. I’m not upset at the initial lie: I’m upset over the one hundred and four days you never trusted me with the truth.”

That still wasn’t fair. I never had reason to trust him. Why was that my fault? I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that. Then I stopped myself, knowing that was a moot point. Still; I needed to defend myself.

“I didn’t want to get in trouble,” I said, the words childish on my tongue.

“You would have been disciplined no matter when you told me after that initial lie,” Evan responded patiently. “Holding it off for so long only expands the lack of trust between us.”

“I trusted you when this broke,” I said, gesturing to my inhibitor. “I—”

“You weren’t at fault then. Did I punish you for that?”

I shook my head.

“Exactly. But you have to trust me even when you are at fault. Without trust, there is no faith. And without faith, there is nothing.”

“Evan—”

“This isn’t happening because you lied, but rather as a result of your inability to trust me.”

At that, he stood. His parents followed suit, moving their chairs off to the side. Then Father moved to pull Evan’s chair out of the way. I felt a hand on my back and jumped, Mother guiding me to stand. My heart started pounding in my ear, everything moving both too slow and fast for me to keep up.

“I’m going to keep this fair,” Evan said with a quick glance at his father. “One hundred and four for every day you didn’t trust me. If you’re good, I’ll round down.”

I blinked at him, understanding exactly what he was saying all while not understanding anything at all.

“Kneel, Andres.”

I couldn’t move. I felt cold as ice, my legs frozen and taunt. I felt hands around my arms, and watched as Mother nodded at me, trying to guide me down on my knees alongside her. I did follow, feeling too weak to do anything else.

“There you go,” Mother cooed next to me. “You’re okay.”

She unzipped the back of my shirt. Another sob tore through me, and I couldn’t stop the tears as they started pouring down my face. Mother hushed me as she slid the tunic off my shoulders.

I thought of Jacob, wondering how he did this. How he didn’t just die on the spot. How he just sat there and accepted what was coming next.

I couldn’t do it. Evan had never beaten me before. Not like this anyway. I didn’t know how Jacob submitted to this, but I knew I couldn’t.

Then I saw Father hand something to Evan. Small and cylinder. Evan flicked his wrist and it expanded. Then he moved to step behind me.

And that’s when I panicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a mean cliff hanger. But it just happened. That's sort of why I felt salty when someone said they were going to wait a few chapters. I felt so caught! Like "dang, foiled again!" lol. 
> 
> I'm prepared for the hate, guys. It's okay. I can take it. 
> 
> Sorry this is late. My internet was being really wonky, and it's still of. It's taking me hours to upload this! ;A; Idk what is going on. Probably Comcast being annoying. -_-
> 
> Anyyyyyway, reading this back was really tense. I'm so anxious to edit the next two chapters. Ugh. God, I feel so bad. More so for you guys. But I do feel bad. Uggggggggggggggh. 
> 
> Please give me feed back. I'm feeling off about this! See everyone on Thursday!


	57. Chapter 57

“No.”

“You’ll love a dog,” Lyle said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be a big one.”

“You said a husky earlier!” I reminded him, rolling my eyes as I slowly made my way through the grounds of Tulane’s campus.

There was staff parking closer to the lab, but I rarely got any exercise as it was. The extra trek across campus was the only guaranteed workout I was going to get on any given day.

And I was able to use it for morning check-ins with Lyle.

It was a win-win.

“We can start with a small one,” Lyle continued, determined to convince me to adopt a dog with him before the holidays.

“Why don’t we see if we like living together first?” I offered, nodding at some students walking by. “ _Before_ getting furbabies involved?”

“Fine,” Lyle said, sounding like he was rolling his eyes. “I won’t take it as a slight that you obviously think we’re going to get divorced, and I’ll win custody of the kids.”

“And the kids in this scenario are the dogs you want us to adopt?”

“Yup.”

“You’re right. We should just break up now; bypass all of that.”

“I know you’re trying to play me, and it’s not going to work.”

I laughed, my voice echoing pleasantly over the lawn. The campus wasn’t overly busy; the only students out were mostly freshmen who hadn’t learned to not schedule any classes before ten yet. Few paid me any mind as Lyle and I switched topics: the importance of a home gym.

Or, in my opinion, the lack thereof.

As I finally got to the lab building, I slowed. There were campus security cops by the front door, a few lab assistants standing off to the side and talking.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

Jamal blinked at me before shaking his head. I felt my heart start to race. No one spoke. 

“Did someone get hurt?” I pressed. “Or—”

“No,” a new intern, whose name I never bothered to learn, said. “No, no one is hurt. But…”

More silence.

“Lyle, I’ll call you back,” I told him before hanging up abruptly.

I pushed through the door, walking down the long, white hallway. I turned down the hall I usually took and saw the campus police right outside the main lab. Feeling a disjointed case of déjà vu, I walked over to them, looking through the glass inside the room.

It was completely demolished. The workstations looked like they’d been smashed apart with a sledgehammer, the main computer in pieces with laptops snapped in half and thrown all over the floor. The rat tanks looked like they were tossed to the floor, a few of the rats running around while others were still on the ground. The filing cabinets were rummaged through, their contents ripped and torn and thrown about all over.

And in the center of the room was a stool, with a delicate glass vase sitting on it. And in the vase was a full bouquet of white roses. Without a thought, I dropped my work bag and phone on the ground, and walked into the room. I heard shouting, distantly, but I couldn’t register what was being said over the sound of rushing water that seemed to surround me.

I walked in, easily stepping through the debris and mess, glass cracking under my foot. I reached the roses, a card sitting right on top. I took it, somehow already knowing what it was going to say.

 _Time to come home_ , mi sol.

I yanked the bouquet out of the vase. There was a rational part of me that knew that was silly: how would the police be able to investigate who did this if I was messing with the crime scene? But if the police hadn’t shown up yet, it meant they hadn’t been called. Typical campus security doing everything they could to not involve actual cops in something.

My magic came alive, burning through me and begging for release. I made up my mind, right then and turned.

And ran straight into Dr. Moore. For the first time in the five years I’d known her, she had a serious look on her face. She looked around the room, at the flowers in my hand, and then sighed.

“Andres, can I talk to you for a minute in my office?”

I nodded, following her out of the room and down the hall. Despite my magic tearing through my body with heat and fire, I felt oddly calm. I wasn’t even afraid that Dr. Moore was obviously about to fire me. Of course Evan would do this. Of course he would attack where I worked, forcing them to let me go.

Once I was jobless, I wouldn’t be able to keep paying my mortgage. He wanted to take away my options. Make living in Faust City so miserable that I choose him. Either that, or live in fear of him for every single day of my life.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Dr. Moore said as we entered her office. It was small but exactly what she needed. “I didn’t have your number on hand, and your boss hadn’t answered—”

“I can’t remember,” I said, sitting in front of her desk, trying to think. “Is there a severance with this job, or no?”

Dr. Moore blinked at me as if I had said the wildest thing she ever heard.

“Severance? Well, no. But you don’t get that if you quit, anyway. Wait. Are you trying to quit right now?”

Now it was my turn to be confused.

“Are you not firing me?”

Dr. Moore stared at me for one long second, then two, before bursting out in laughter. It was jarring, giving the circumstances, but I relished a bit in the familiarity of it. Being serious didn’t suit her: laughing after the lab had been attacked did.

“Oh, God! You poor thing! Of course not! There are _laws_ against things like that. It’s not your fault you have a crazy ex stalking you.”

Now, I was really confused. Though I didn’t say anything. Just let Dr. Moore laugh it out and waited.

“No, no, no,” she said, coming down. “I mean, I do have to furlough you, but fire? God, no.”

“Furlough?” I repeated.

“With pay!” she emphasized. Then shrugged. “I guess it’s more of a leave. But I’m forcing you to do it, so it’s a furlough. Whatever; I’m not an English lit professor. We are scientists.

“The president and board think that for everyone’s safety, it would be best if you took a break from your work here. Now, I’m not going to lie; a lot of them want me to phase you out this way. But that’s stupid, so I said no. I want you back here teaching in the fall like we agreed to, and it’ll be up to you if you want to return to the lab then as well. I’ll keep a spot open until then.”

I let out a heavy breath. That was more than what I was expecting. More than I ever would have asked for. A paid leave, _and_ I had a guaranteed job in the fall?

“Listen kid,” Dr. Moore said, leaning forward as she took in my look of relief. “I liked Gus. I mean, I hated him, but you know what I mean. I respected him. And he liked you. I’m not letting a mind that bright go because of some _man_ who doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.

“I’ve seen this sort of thing go down more than once in my life. So I’m hoping that once we take you off our staff list, take your picture down from the website, and we go a few months pretending you’re not working here, it’ll take your ex’s eyes off here. And, at the very least, we prevent him and his cult buddies from destroying millions of dollar worth of equipment that the school is freaking out over having to replace.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I never thought it would escalate to this. I never—”

“Andres, Andres. Buddy. Guy. Look at me. Here. There you go,” Dr. Moore rambled, snapping her fingers until she was sure I was listening. “What did I say? Okay? I’m not blaming you for this. _My_ bosses might, but I’m _your_ boss. And I’m saying I’ll take care of the guys upstairs. And they know better than to cross this with me because I’ll get mob of angry man-hating lesbians protesting this university and making world news so quick that even Al Faust herself will start chopping off heads.”

The image of that made me smile. So I nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, I have to be honest; the campus security don’t want to report this. And the university president is sort of saying the same thing: they don’t want this becoming a major story. But, Andres, if you want them to call the police—”

“No,” I said, looking down at the flowers in my hand. The police would be useless. “Are they at least writing a report?”

“Yes. And I’ll see to it that there is at least an internal investigation—”

“I just want a copy of the report for my lawyer,” I told her, standing. I was still calm. Especially regarding what I was about to do. “Is it safe to assume my leave starts now?”

“Oh, uh, well, yes. We’ll have to send everyone home tod—”

“Perfect. I’ll check my emails for that report. Thank you, Dr. Moore.”

Ignoring her surprised look, I stood up and left the office. I thought nothing as I made my way down the hall, picking up my stuff while I ignored the campus cops, and to the front of the building. I didn’t register the interns and researchers showing up and talking to each other, all getting quiet as I passed. I didn’t see anyone as I started my way across the campus, back to the parking lot, finding my car.

Once I was in, I stared ahead, at nothing, my phone vibrating in the seat next to me. I looked down, my phone sitting next to the bouquet. I should answer. Let Lyle know I was okay. But I wasn’t going to do that. If I stopped to talk to Lyle, I would admit what I wanted to do. And I would let him talk me out of it.

I didn’t want to be talked out of it. I just wanted to do _something_ for once. So I put the car in reverse, keeping enough attention around me to make my way off the campus and into Nola’s morning traffic. I didn’t turn on the radio, and I continued to ignore all the times my phone buzzed next to me.

It took me a while with traffic to get to the edge of the French Quarter. But it was fine: every time I started to doubt myself, I’d look down at the white roses and feel fury numb my hesitance again. I had memorized the address what felt like a lifetime ago. He sent it to me again when he got those kids to throw a brick at me. I didn’t see a card this time, but I didn’t need another business card to know how to find it.

The church was a pretty small one, on the corner and sandwiched between a convenience store and a yoga studio. It was white without all of the usual grandiose tall towers and stained-glass windows. In fact, if it didn’t have a sign designating it the Church of Eden’s Willows, I never would have found it. it looked more like an office building than a church, with two stories of what looked like apartments on top of the ground floor.

I parked across the street, grabbing the bouquet before sliding out. I barely glanced down the street before I crossed it, my eyes on my target. I stopped outside the steps, staring up at the double doors. There were cameras on each corner, the idea of that silly to me but not surprising. I wondered if someone saw me approach, and was watching me now. Wondering what I was doing.

I gripped the bouquet in my hand, staring. Now that I was here, I honestly wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to see Evan, but maybe I could talk to whoever was running this church. Surely Evan and the others returned to the Willows by now, so it was whoever ran this place that had orchestrated the attack at the lab. The note likely a touch Evan added when he gave his okay.

I felt my anger build, my magic moving pleasantly around me, warming my fingertips. Rationally, I knew I shouldn’t have come here. If I hated the Willows so much, coming to their sister church wasn’t proving that. Still, I needed to make sure the message was clear: I knew they were responsible, and they weren’t going to get away with harassing me.

So, I walked up the stairs to the door, pushing it open. It opened to a small receiving area, with a cross on one wall and two doors at each corner. It was empty. I frowned, listening, but I didn’t hear anyone. I went to one of the doors, peaking through the small window, and saw rows of pews leading to the pulpit.

There were a few people sitting at the front pews, a man standing in the aisle, talking and smiling. He was tall and dark with a boring short cut. Still, from a distance, there was something familiar about him even though I was sure I never saw him before in my life.

Gripping the bouquet, I opened the door, the creaking of it echoing against the walls. I saw a woman who had been lounging near the group sit up and look, the young man and woman who had been sitting next to her following her gaze. The one who had been standing quickly took me in, the flowers in my hand, and then turned to face me as I stomped down the aisle.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have any weddings booked today,” he said, smiling pleasantly at me. “Though if you’d like to schedule a tour—”

“I’m still celebrating my divorce,” I told him as I stopped in front of him, matching his gaze. “I’m not in a rush to get married again.”

Looking at the man closer, I could see he wasn’t much older than me. In fact, I would be shocked if he were more than a year or two such. It was hard to take his haughty gaze too seriously when I settled in my mind that he was no less a kid than I was.

Not that I was a kid, but it was hard not to think so when most of the adults I worked with were old, tenured professors and researchers.

“Don’t give up on the Lord’s desire to see you properly married,” he said, rolling his head to the side as he appraised me. “He is not done using you yet.”

“I’d prefer my relationship to God to be as dead as my marriage to Evan,” I snapped. “Who is in charge here?”

The man’s eyes flashed before he answered. “Typically, I am. Did you come seeking help, my son?”

“Call me that again, and I’ll gut you.” I didn’t know why this guy was acting like a dick, but I could tell he knew who I was. Especially after I name-dropped Evan. “What do you mean ‘typically?’ Have you been dethroned?”

“I—”

“Oh, wait. I don’t care. Tell me this, though: did you get demoted before or after you orchestrated this?”

I held up the roses, and the man looked at them for a long second before smiling.

“I’m sorry that you find me so perplexed,” he said, the formality of his words sending a shiver down my spine that I deftly hid. “I don’t think I’ve ever met you before, so I’m not sure why you would believe _I_ would send you flowers.”

I smiled back at him. “So you’re going to deny trashing my workplace?”

“And where do you work?”

“How fascinating that you didn’t just continue to deny it. Do you harass people so often that you have to think to remember what you motherfuckers planned for _me_?”

One of the women gasped a little at my slur. The man let out a heavy breath, then closing his eyes as if collecting himself. When he opened them again, they were zeroed in on me, though his next words weren’t.

“Christophe,” he said, the boy sitting next to the woman straightening. “Would you please go get Father? I fear my patience is running thin.”

The boy got up, heading behind the pulpit, where there was another door leading to God knows where. I watched him leave before turning back to the man in front of me. Only then did it click to me where he looked familiar: or, rather, _why_ he looked familiar. The shape of his dark eyes, the lift of his nose, and even the fact that his smile was also small and almost shy—despite the smarminess.

“Which brother are you?” I asked him suddenly. “One of the ones excommunicated, or the one who left for a mission trip?”

The man’s smile fell, just slightly, before he caught it.

“Excuse you?” he asked, his tone overly polite.

“Did Evan not mention Kian while he was here? How he was doing? Did he at least tell you how many nieces and nephews you have?”

The man’s smile completely disappeared then, another emotion flashing on his face. He looked just like Kian, albeit stockier and with a stronger jawline. But the resemblance was apparent now that I saw it. And I registered his age again: he really was closer to my age than he was Kian. That was obvious. He didn’t have nearly enough lines on his face or hardness in his eyes to be one of Kian’s older brothers.

He must be the younger one.

His mission didn’t take him too far.

“Enough, Andres,” an all too familiar voice said from behind the man.

My eyes darted to the door the boy had disappeared from previously. I felt my heart drop, somehow not surprised despite how little I expected this.

Evan. Still here. Still in the city. And now walking towards me. The closer he got, the colder I felt my body become. My magic stilled inside me, as if bowing to Evan. He was in the Willows white, like everyone else in the room, and he stopped only once he stood next to Kian’s little brother.

His hazel eyes held me in place, and I had suddenly forgotten my anger. I had forgotten why I had even come here. I forgot my fear from when he called me, and my hatred from when I told my story at court; both which felt like lifetimes ago. I even forgot my joy and happiness when I won the annulment.

I forgot anything and everything that had put a wedge between us, and all I could remember was that realization I made at group. The realization that I admitted to my therapist. The realization that I didn’t realize until this very moment was still inside me.

Because it had been easy to be afraid of the _idea_ of him stealing me away. It had been easy to make him a monster, and tell a court how he abused me. It had been easy to smile and celebrate being freed from him when everyone expected me to.

But standing in front of him, I had to face the truth: he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t some demonic creature from a horror story bent on dragging me to hell. He wasn’t even the worst asshole I personally knew. He was just a man. He was just Evan.

And I was still in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! How are you guys this fine, wretched night? Miserable comme moi? Wonderful. Glad we can all be miserable together. 
> 
> So I disappeared, and boy let me tell you it was not at all planned, and, as always, I am so sorry. But boy oh boy has life been my own personal circle of hell. Lol. I guess in some ways, it's not THAT big of a deal, especially now that I'm (kinda?) on the other side of it. But man oh man. I've got a cold brew (beer lol) in my hand as I type this, and as soon as I post this (and catch up with a few comments), I'm going to shower, pop some sleeping pills, and knock THE FUCK out. Wake me up when NEXT SEPTEMBER ends because that's how long I feel like I need to sleep. 
> 
> So last week, on Thursday, as I was taking a shower and wanting to get all warm and cozy before making my final edits and uploading, the unthinkable happened. I fucking slipped and fell in the shower. I hit the side of my middle/upper back on the side of the tub, and was afraid I cracked a rib. Or, that hitting my back like that would reagitate my back, which I threw out at work years ago. Luckily, when I woke the next day, I was fine, if not bruised and still shaken. 
> 
> The whole thing terrified me because I really thought I was going to hit my head and die in the shower. And I still live at home and my mother heard me fall and didn't check on me. My brother didn't check on me. Basically, NO ONE checked to make sure I didn't fucking die. Imagine if I DID hit my head and knocked myself out and was bleeding out. I could have been there for hours before someone would think to look for me, and by then, I'd probably be dead. 
> 
> I think that especially upset me, not to mention the whole thing just really SHOOK me. So there was no uploading going on. 
> 
> So, part two of that is actually kind of funny: I've been having issues with my internet. As you guys know (I think I reported this before), uploading has been hell because my internet won't connect long enough for me to upload. It wasn't just this site: anytime I tried to load something, it would take forever to load, and then eventually just disconnect from my wifi. And I know it's not my internet because my phone and tv can connect to it just fine. 
> 
> So here's where I get a little conspiracy theorist, but stay with me. I was suspicious that someone cloned/hacked my laptop. I felt like that was likely why things were acting, weird, but nothing was happening. I'd gone so far as to buy stuff either at work, or on my phone because I was certain that someone was trying to watch me log into my online accounts to get my card info. It's the holiday season when that happens, and there is no reason for my laptop to be having issues connecting to the internet, it was the only thing I could think. 
> 
> Fast forward to yesterday, I showered as soon as I got home, I was set to edit this chapter and get it uploaded and be in bed all before 9. I'm chatting with a friend, put my phone down to finish getting in my pjs, then pick up my phone to see a text notification from my paypal saying a $260+ charge was made to Best Buy. Mind you, I NEVER use my paypal; I only have it because of a situation a year and a half ago, and I haven't touched it since. 
> 
> But my debit card was on it, and charged. Putting me in the red, and all that shit. I was literally shaking with how badly I was freaking out. I immediately disputed it, and paypal will be refunding me (of course), but of course it's going to take a while. So of course, the week before Christmas, I don't have all of my money, nor my bonus, because these fuckers stole from me. Hilariously enough, yesterday, I noticed that my computer was working normal, all issues resolved. And then a couple of hours later, that happened. 
> 
> Either way, last night turned into me calling my bank to get them to cancel my card and whatnot (got a new one now, so all is good :3). And now, this weekend, I have to back up all my files (I'd already been in the process of THAT because I had already decided to do this) and restore my factory settings. THEN, I'm going to find anything I had linked to my card and either delete it or at least make sure I don't link my card on any sites. I have a plan on how to move forward to prevent this from happening again, but I'm still a little off. 
> 
> I'm sorry, but life really has been so fucking wild for the past, like 10 days. I literally want to die haha (not kidding). But, instead, I'm going to upload again tomorrow because 1) I know I'm torturing you guys ending with that cliffhanger and then doing THIS, and 2) you would have gotten the continuation this week had me falling not happened. 
> 
> I'm running out of characters, so please leave comments and I'll see you all tomorrow!


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second upload this week. Please make sure you've read the previous chapter if this is your first time checking in for a while. 
> 
> Also, CW: this chapter contains violent depictions of physical abuse, trauma bonding, and assault. 
> 
> Please do not read this chapter if this is going to be upsetting or triggering to you. Always take care of yourselves first. 
> 
> Thank you!

“No.”

“Excuse you?”

There was a scuffle, Mother pulling me back and away from Evan while Father held an arm in front of him. I watched Evan, saw the anger and fury in his face. He was _pissed_. And he was letting it show for once. Gone was his usual calm mask, and instead was the hot rage that I could literally feel radiating from him.

“You claim you want to be better,” Father said to him, his voice calming. “I’m only stopping you because this is the standard _you_ set for yourself.”

Evan watched me just a moment longer before turning around and taking a deep breath in. Mother turned me around as well, both of us standing now. I had stood up and told Evan no. I defied him. I was so scared that I was shaking. I didn’t know what else to do.

“You do not tell your husband ‘no,’” Mother scolded me gently, a hand on my back.

I shook my head. She didn’t understand. She didn’t get it. I tried to breathe, but all I could do was take small gasps without getting anywhere near the amount of air I needed. I felt like my lungs would shrivel and I would die. Mother seemed to notice my panic. She wrapped an around my shoulder, shushing me.

“You’re okay,” she said, as if soothing a child. “It’s just a beating. It’s not nearly as bad as you were imagining, right?”

I looked at her, incredulous.

“I—” I started, my words coming out in bursts as I struggled to get control of my breath. “This. Is. Literally the. Worst. Thing. I was. Imagining.”

And at that, a sob tore through me, shaking my entire body, fresh tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know what else to do but bury my face in my hands and cry. Mother’s arm fell, replaced with a hand lingering on my shoulder before I felt her move away completely.

“Why is he so terrified of a beating?” Mother asked.

The question wasn’t directed at me, and I didn’t want to turn around to see Evan’s reaction to it. But I did hear the warning in his voice when he responded.

“Excuse you?”

Mother let out a sharp breath, a hand returning to the small of my back again.

“Surely he’s beaten you before,” she said. Because it wasn’t a question, but a statement.

I looked at her, her face blurry. Was this the norm here in the Willows? I had thought that only brutes like Declan took to beating their wives. But was it that common place? As expected as me spreading my legs for Evan every night?

I shook my head at her, feeling so lost.

“He’s spanked me,” I told her, my voice a whine. “He’s popped me on the mouth a few times. But never this. He hasn’t _beaten_ me.”

I did see the way Mother’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I can’t do this,” I told her. Pleaded with her. “I’ve never had to do any of this before. My parents never laid a hand on me. The spankings are one thing. They don’t even hurt. But I can’t sit here and let him beat me. I can’t. Please, don’t make me!”

“No one is making you,” Mother said, his voice firm as she wiped my eyes. “You submit to this because he is your husband.”

“No! Please!”

“Andres, stop. I know you know better than to use such ugly language.”

She wasn’t getting it. No one was getting it. No one was getting that I _couldn’t_ do this. That they couldn’t expect me to accept this. They were insane. This whole thing was insane!

“I’ve never seen a wife this upset over a beating,” Mother said, again not to me but to her son. Her tone was chastising, obviously ignoring the warning Evan gave earlier. “He’s panicking!”

“He will live through it, and he will see it is not at all what he fears,” Evan said, his voice calm again.

“No,” I cried, shaking my head, turning towards them. Evan was still standing a small distance away, still holding the baton. My tears flowed even harder when I saw them all. I took a step back. “Please. I can’t!”

“Andres,” Mother started, turning towards me. I had never seen such sympathy in her eyes. At least not while looking at me. “Come, now, child. Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I don’t want—” I started, cutting myself off. I wasn’t doing this on purpose. Did she think I was? “I don’t want to be difficult. I don’t. I really don’t. I want this to be over. I can accept anything else. If he wanted to take me over his knee right now, I wouldn’t complain. But I can’t do this! I can’t! Please!”

“Shhh,” Mother said, rubbing my shoulders.

“This is the very result so many have seen coming,” I heard Father mutter to Evan. Scold him, really. “Give too much rope, and they’ll hang themselves.”

“I wanted to ease him into this,” Evan said, watching me closely. “I thought it would be foolish to expect an outsider to take to our ways from the start.”

“You’ve spoiled him.”

Evan nodded, not taking his eyes off me.

“I have.”

“You need to correct it.”

Evan nodded again, this time approaching me. Mother let go of me, stepping out of Evan’s way. Belatedly, I thought to take a step back. Not that it mattered; Evan was in front of me in a second, gripping my arm.

“I’ve explained to you why you are being punished, did I not?”

I opened my mouth, nothing coming out. So I just nodded.

“And while I recognize that you disagree, as your husband, I have decided that you need this correction. Do you understand that at least? That as your husband, this is my decision?”

I didn’t look at him, my heart racing a mile a minute. Did I understand the logic behind it? Sure. Did I agree? Did I accept it? Did I approve of it? Absolutely not.

But he wasn’t asking that. So I nodded.

“This will not be the end of this,” Evan continued. “We will have plenty of time to discuss this. But this punishment only needs to happen once. We can do this now and get it over with.”

I shook my head, hating this. But this was only going to end one way. I was simply delaying the inevitable.

“Okay,” I said.

“Kneel, Andres. My mother will help you.”

He let go of my arm, and I hesitated for just a second. Before it could go on too long, however, I did as he wanted. I kneeled. I submitted. I blinked away the new tears that wanted to spill. I looked at the ground, defeated.

I felt like I sat on the ground, alone, for hours, with everyone just watching me. Probably basking in this moment. I knew Evan had to feel victorious; Father satisfied. Even Mother had to be pleased with how all of this was turning out. Everyone watched me on the ground in submission to my husband. Waiting for my punishment.

Like a good little wife.

Mother moved first, taking her place in front of me. Without a word, she moved to finish helping me out of my shirt entirely. I looked at it as she sat it next to us, so pristine and white. she rubbed her hands up and down my arms, soothingly, before taking my hands and guiding them to the ground in front of them. As she had demonstrated for Serenity and me to do to Jacob, she pressed her hands on top of mine, locking me in.

If I really wanted to, I could easily throw her off me. But the longer I sat in the silence of the room, the less I wanted to fight. I gave up. Evan won. He was going to beat me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was hope that Mother would help me through it. And that this wouldn’t break me.

Evan and Father moved next, settling behind me. I closed my eyes, miserable. Helpless. Powerless.

“One hundred and four,” Evan repeated. “Behave and we’ll round down.”

I nodded so he knew I heard him. Four less lashes. How kind of him. Granted, by the time I hit a hundred, maybe I would be desperate for the reprieve. I’d never done this before, so how would I know?

“You don’t have to count,” he said.

I was thinking how that was an odd thing to tell me; was it common for wives to count the lashes when their husbands beat them? Before I could dwell on that for too long, I felt the rod strike my back with a silent crack. It was a baton, despite how thin it was, and struck me sharply like a switch.

That first strike caught me off guard, the second garnering a proper cry from me. By the fourth lash, I was breathless, and I had to stop keeping track by the tenth. Evan was not going easy on me. I could hear the whistle of the baton every time he swung, the connection echoing loud in the sitting room.

And the pain. It stung, each lash lingering and not dissipating when Evan struck again. It wasn’t like a new lash was a way to focus less on the old, but rather each strike setting more and more of my back alight with agony.

I cried and sobbed. I bent over as Evan’s strikes got more and more powerful; as if he was trying to ease me into the worse. It was never ending with little respite between each lash. I felt welts formed, felt lashes and strikes against them, and was sure I could even feel my skin tear in some places.

And all I could do was cry. Beg for mercy. Beg for an end. Ask someone to help me. Knowing it was all a waste; that Mother was holding me down, and that Evan wouldn’t stop until he decided he was done, and that Father would stop anyone from helping if someone did hear and felt so inclined.

A particularly hard swat against my shoulder had me jerking away, pulling one of my hands from Mother’s grasp. Ignoring my groans, Mother simply found my hand again and pulled it back on the ground.

“You’re doing so well,” she cooed. “You’re already more than halfway there. See? It’s not nearly as bad as you imagined.”

I wasn’t sure she understood just what I had imagined. I imagined pain, but I didn’t imagine the way the rod cut through my skin, breaking open welts. I knew I’d have to hear the whack of the baton’s strikes, but I didn’t think I’d hear the ugly slap as it slammed against my bloody back. I was prepared to hate it, but the straight misery and helplessness that made me contemplate a way out of this hell surprised me.

This was worse than I had imagined.

“Keep it up,” I heard Father say to Evan. “Don’t drag it out unnecessarily. Don’t let up.”

I hadn’t noticed if the strikes were slowing down, or if they were getting lighter. But I did notice that Evan’s pace did pick up. As if he had gotten a second wind, he beat me hard enough for me to feel it in my bones. I shut my eyes and just cried, miserable, with Mother cooing me from the front and Evan attacking me from the back. I was surrounded by enemies. I was so alone.

I wanted this to all be over.

And then, it was.

Evan didn’t say anything, but the lashes stopped. Mother was telling me I had done a good job; that he rounded down and stopped at a hundred. That I had been good enough for him to reward me.

It was a silly thing to say, but I dared to look up then. Evan was moving, kneeling on one knee in front of me, taking my arms out of his mother’s grasp and into his own. I was shaking, tears streaking my face, and I felt so weak that all I could do was collapse in his arms. My back was on fire, and I was sure I could feel spots where blood was trickling down.

“Shhh,” Evan said, cupping my arms under my elbows and trying to lift me up again. “There you go. It’s over. You did it. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry!” I cried, afraid that if I didn’t say it, he would hit me again. I couldn’t take him beating me like that again. I couldn’t take it. “Please! I’m sorry!”

“Andres, love—”

“I’m sorry!” I kept going, needing to apologize for everything. “I’m sorry I lied! I’m sorry I kept it a secret for so long! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! I’m sorry! Please! I promise I won’t lie again! I’ll tell you everything! I’m sorry!”

Evan kissed my forehead, and I started to cry again. Did that mean he forgave me? He wasn’t mad at me anymore? He wasn’t going to hit me again?

“I got pregnant once, years ago,” I continued between my sobs. Because I did promise I would tell him everything. “I miscarried, but I didn’t want it then!”

“Okay, Andres. It’s okay,” Evan cooed, letting me collapse in his arms.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tightly. I needed him to feel how sorry I was. I needed him to believe me. I didn’t want him to hit me again.

“I promise I’ll get pregnant! I promise I’ll do whatever I can to get pregnant as soon as possible. Please! I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I promise!”

“Okay, Andres. I believe you, okay? But I need you to stand up right now so we can get you in bed and cleaned up.”

I blinked, something about that not clicking. Evan stood up, tugging on my hands to help me stand. It took a while; every move set my back aflame again. But after a minute or so, I was standing straight. But when Evan tried to get me to walk, I almost collapsed.

“Okay,” Evan said, his father grabbing my arm and keeping me up so I wouldn’t fall. “Let’s get him on my back and I’ll carry him upstairs.”

I watched as Evan kneeled in front of me, his father guiding me on to his back while his mother told them both to be careful. Once I was secured and Evan had proven he could carry me without fear of dropping me, he started to move.

Slowly, thankfully, so that bouncing on his back wasn’t too painful. I closed my eyes, taking in his scent, the sandalwood from the shampoo he used. He slowly made his way down the hall and up the stairs, his parents behind us to catch us if we fell, I guessed, but pleasantly quiet.

I opened my eyes only when Evan stopped, seeing us in a rather large room with a huge bed in the center. The walls were a pleasant blue, instantly calming me, the setting sun casting a soothing glow in the room. Father helped me off his son’s back, and then they both helped me sit down on the bed. They left the room for a minute while Mother guided me into the center of the bed and onto my stomach.

“Now comes the easy part,” Mother said, rubbing my arm while I just laid there and breathed through the pain. “Well, cleanup can be a bit painful, but you’ll enjoy this. I promise.”

I didn’t have much time to contemplate that: Evan and his father were back. Evan was holding a large first aid kit, and Evan’s father politely excused himself and Mother. It wasn’t until they mentioned retiring to bed that I realized that Evan and I would likely be spending the night in the house. I didn’t have a major issue with it, but it was a bit odd sleeping somewhere else.

“This will be our room once we move in,” Evan said, sitting next to me on the bed. “Do you like it?”

I hummed, looking at the wall. “I like blue.”

“Do you? You do seem much calmer than usual.”

I tried to shrug, then winced at the stinging pain.

“Hmm. I have to clean and bandage your back, okay?”

“Okay,” I sighed, closing my eyes again.

As much as I hated to admit it: Mother was right. I did enjoy this part. Evan cleaned my back, getting a wash bin with soapy water first, and then applying antiseptic. The alcohol did sting at first, but he quickly followed up with an antibiotic ointment that was also a pain reliever.

But what I loved most was how gentle he was throughout it. He never grabbed me too hard, and he warned me any time he’d do something that might hurt. He kissed me every time I had a rush of pain, and he kept repeating over and over how proud he was of me. How well I’d been.

Even though I didn’t feel I’d been good—Evan had just punished me, after all—I still enjoyed the praise. I had to sit up for him to wrap my bandages, and by the time he finished and cleaned everything up, I just felt calm. Evan sat next to me, holding my hand and just watching me.

“I was really afraid you’d fight me during,” he said, kissing my cheeks and then briefly on my lips. “I’m so happy you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to fight you,” I admitted. And that felt good. The honesty.

Evan smiled at me, seeming satisfied with that. “I think considering this was your first time being punished like that, you did a very good job.”

I swallowed. “Are you going to hit me like that again?”

Evan let out a heavy sigh, and I braced myself.

“I’ve learned through this that you _will_ make mistakes that I will have to correct. And yes, with proper beatings; not the lazy spankings I do as reminders.”

I felt my heart speed up a bit, but I didn’t respond. Not yet. I would let him finish.

“I would like to think you’ll refrain from misbehaving so that I don’t have to beat you quite as bad as I did today.”

I nodded. Okay. I could accept that.

“The reason it was so bad was because I was trying to avoid it,” I said. I looked up at him. “Right?”

“Yes. You continued lying to me because you were afraid of the punishment. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

I blinked. I was. And, yes, I was in pain. But I knew it wouldn’t last. I would recover. My back would stop aching. I would even forget this pain.

Maybe.

So I nodded.

“So you will survive it again, won’t you?”

“Yes,” I acquiesced.

There was a silence that passed between us, and I was surprised by how comfortable it felt. It was broken with a small chuckle from Evan.

“What?” I asked.

“I was wondering if one day you’ll thank me after I punish you,” he said, moving so that he was fully on the bed, straddling my legs.

“Why would I thank you?” I asked. And I didn’t mean it rudely. And Evan knew that. So he didn’t correct me for it.

“For the attention,” he said, kissing me again. “And the affection. And for the correction.”

I nodded. I didn’t want that to be true. But at the moment, the last thing I wanted to do was challenge Evan. So I conceded. It was so easy to do. Why had I fought it for so long?

“But for tonight,” Evan said, his hands already undoing my pants, “you still have work to do.”

I wasn’t upset nor surprised that this was going to end with sex. So I helped Evan help me out of my pants, and happily helped him out of his own shirt. But then he started to move me, obviously wanting me on my stomach.

As happy as I was that he was kind enough to not force me on my back for this, considering missionary was easily his favorite position, the last thing I wanted was to be fucked from behind.

“Wait,” I said, hesitating. “You’re not going to put me on my back?”

“No, _mi sol_ ,” he said, kissing me before pulling on my legs to try to turn me. “I’ll do it from behind.”

“N—I mean.” I took a breath. I couldn’t say that word. God forbid all of this would have been for nothing. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to face you.”

Evan looked confused. “You _want_ to be on your back?”

“N—I mean, that’s not what I meant. Can I be on top? Please?”

He didn’t answer right away, just watching me and obviously considering it. I swallowed, only allowing the silence for about two seconds.

“I’m not trying to take advantage,” I promised. “I swear I’m not. I just really want to face you and I don’t want to reopen my wounds after you bandaged them and—”

Evan silenced me with a kiss. I swear I could melt in that moment.

“Of course, _mi sol_ ,” he said, changing our positions so that I was now straddling him. He pulled his dick out, full mast.

“Thank you,” I said, scrambling as my heart skipped.

I moved, sliding him inside. I wasn’t wet, so it stung a bit, but I’d taken Evan dry plenty of times. And it wasn’t about that anyway. Despite how much moving made my back sting, despite how tired and exhausted I was, I needed to show Evan how sorry I was. So, I rode him hard, fucking myself on his dick exactly the way he likes it. And he rewarded me with kisses and praise.

And through it all, I survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Finally got the conclusion to THIS saga! :D 
> 
> Reading this back was REALLY hard tbqh. It just took me a while because it was so hard. I'm really a piece of shit for all that I'm doing to Andres. And I'm serious when I say my next installment in this series isn't going to have all of this. It's so hard to read. Idk how you guys can do it and then say you like it! 
> 
> Someone said they wanted Andres to really deck Evan in the face, but that just wasn't going to happen. Especially not in Andres' panicked state. :( I'm sorry that you won't get that face shot. 
> 
> Yet. 
> 
> I feel so annoyed about how this played out. I had it in my head for a while that I was going to post the chapter two chapters ago, and then the next week, post the last chapter, and I'd get a lot of comments being like "you ain't shit for doing this to us! You knew we wanted to see what would happen next! Wtf!" Especially since, if you noticed, I started this chapter and the last one with Andres saying "no." :3 So I wanted you to read that first line in the last chapter, think you were getting the continuation, just to have all your dreams dashed. 
> 
> MUAHAHAHAHAHA. I WAS AN EVIL WRITER ALL ALONG! 
> 
> Ahh, but with everything that happened, it didn't work out that way. And that's also why I decided to upload this one today too. I figured you guys waited long enough lol. 
> 
> Oh, if I you guys wanted an update, the refund from that fraudulent charge went through this morning! I was shocked to see it, but also so happy. I thought I wouldn't get it until next week, which would be fine but annoying. But because I got it, I got to indulge in one more pricey gift for my mother. So yay! And with all of that, I'm (just about) done Christmas shopping. I just have to get some wine from my one friend, and a gift card for my brother (he's lucky I'm getting him that lol), and then I'm COMPLETELY finished! Tomorrow, I'm going to spend the afternoon wrapping gifts and writing out cards so that I can start the week ready to go. 
> 
> Though my mother's last gift won't come until Monday. But that's fine. I actually shelled out an extra $20 for the speedy shipping. ;A; Ah well. Better than waiting until after Christmas, I guess.
> 
> Anyway, I'm feeling much better now that everything seems resolved. :3
> 
> Hope you guys are having a great weekend. What do you guys think of this chapter?


	59. Chapter 59

“I have to admit,” Evan said, taking another step towards me. “I didn’t expect to see you before I left.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I hadn’t expected Evan to be here. Still. In the city. In the silence, Kian’s brother moved, turning to disappear past the door behind the pulpit. The others watching us took his cue, following quietly, and leaving Evan and me alone.

Evan watched me the entire time, like a tiger stalking its prey. Once the silence between us stretched well past its comfortability point, Evan spoke again, his eyes travelling down to the flowers still in my hand.

“Wonderful. You got my message,” he mused, taking yet another step towards me.

I lifted the flowers, pointing them towards him. He jerked to a stop, his chest inches from hitting the roses. When did he get so close?

“I don’t like roses.”

Evan smiled at that. “I see. What flowers would you have preferred?”

“I would prefer you stop harassing me.”

“How is sending my wife flowers harassment?”

“Because I’m not your fucking wife!” I snapped, louder than I intended.

For his part, Evan didn’t flinch.

“ _Mi sol_ ,” he purred, taking another step forward, unconcerned that he was smushing the bouquet. “If I took you back home today, you would still legally be my wife.”

I swallowed. I had suspected such: the annulment simply meant that the Nation had no political position to demand I be forced back. It didn’t mean that they recognized the dissolution of our marriage. In their eyes, I was still Evan’s wife.

“And even if that were not the case,” Evan said, taking one more step, “I am a man of God. So long as the Lord sees us as husband and wife, we are. Simple as that.”

He was too close. He could reach out and touch me if he wanted. And I knew he did want to. So I took a step back, tossing the bouquet at him. He turned his head, a few roses hitting his face while most of them thudded against his chest.

“Leave me alone,” I told him. “And tell whoever is in charge once you’re gone to leave me alone too.”

Evan didn’t say anything, so I turned around and headed to the door. I felt shaky, cold, and just _off_. I wasn’t sure why I came here. What was I hoping to accomplish?

I pulled the door handle. It didn’t budge. I blinked, trying again. It pulled in; I knew it did. Fear pushed against my chest, my heart pounding. I squared my legs, pulling as hard as I could. Nothing.

It was locked. When and how, I had no idea. But it was locked.

I stepped back, lifting my hand to the door. A lock wouldn’t stop me from blasting it open with magic. It was a simple spell…

I felt nothing. No heat. No energy. Where was my magic? I blinked, searching for the bubbling power I was used to feeling pulse through me. Nothing.

Before the realization could settle in, I spun around. Evan was right there, so close that I jerked back in surprise, my back slamming against the door.

“No—”

“Shh,” Evan hushed, a finger on my lips as he filled the space between us. “Calm down. I’m right here.”

“Get away from me!” I cried, panic seizing me as I pushed away from him. He grabbed my wrist as I twisted away. “Stop! Get off me!”

Evan easily caught me around the waist, pulling me away from the door and down the aisle. I screamed, calling out uselessly for help. Like this, Evan would always win. He was bigger and stronger. I’d never win against him without my magic.

And why didn’t I have my magic? How could Evan suppress it without the bracelets? He hadn’t even touched me beforehand. How long was I without my magic before I even noticed?

I shouldn’t have come.

I snapped back to focus once Evan started dragging me behind the pulpit. I started again, pushing and kicking and screaming. Evan’s hold held firm; almost impressively so. He didn’t chastise me, nor scold me either; he let me struggle, fight, and cry.

“Stop, Evan, please!” I whined when he paused to push open the door. “You can’t!”

“I know,” he cooed, as though I was a child crying for attention. “I know.”

Once the door closed behind us, he finally let go. I turned, pulling away and looking around. We were in a long, dark hallway. On one end was an emergency exit, a bit of light coming through the dark tinted strip of window glass there. On the other end was an elevator door and a stairwell.

I turned to make a run for the exit, getting pulled back when someone gripped my arm. He was too rough to be Evan; I knew that for certain. Sure enough, when I looked over my shoulder, I could just make out the profile of Kian’s brother.

“I didn’t need help,” Evan said, lingering by the door a bit. Probably using magic to lock it as well.

“He was about to run out the side,” Kian’s brother said, grunting when I kicked at his shins.

Evan looked at us, as if bored. He glanced at the exit and shrugged.

“All of the doors are secured. He’s not going anywhere I don’t want him.”

“He’s still—Jesus Christ!”

The asshole finally let go of me after I bit his arm. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the metallic taste in my mouth as he examined his forearm. I heard Evan chuckle.

“Did he bite you?”

“Yes, he fucking did! Goddamn psychopath!”

“Language,” Evan gently scolded, walking over to me. He gripped my chin, turning my head so that I was forced to look at him. “Are you a child, Andres? An animal?”

I just glared at him, waiting. I didn’t have to answer that. I wouldn’t answer that. Besides, we both knew what was coming next. And I was out of practice with it: he wasn’t going to catch me off guard.

Evan sighed at my silence, lifting his other hand. He slapped me hard across my cheek, my skin stinging. I hated being hit. I hated it so much.

“Apologize to Martin,” Evan ordered.

He let go of my face, and I considered my options. I was getting nowhere fighting. I was just getting tired. I was trapped, and, at the moment, no one in my life knew I was even missing. Fighting felt cathartic, but it wasn’t getting me out quicker.

I needed to be smart.

I turned to Kian’s brother—Martin apparently—and licked his blood off my teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Then, for good measure, added, “I shouldn’t have bit you like that.”

“He almost sounds genuine,” Martin muttered, obviously still upset and in pain.

“He is,” Evan said, grabbing my wrist again and walking me to the elevator. “Andres likes being obedient. He’s just out of practice and scared. Isn’t that right, _mi sol_?”

The elevator door dinged open right after Evan hit the button. I stopped. I couldn’t go in. I’d never be heard from again if I did. Evan turned when I stopped, Martin stalking past me with a scowl.

“I—” I glanced at Martin; he simply regarded me, unimpressed. “Evan, please. Can we just talk abo—”

“How cute,” Martin sneered, leaning against the back wall. “He wants to _talk_ now. Amazing how humble he gets when he doesn’t have his magic to rely on.”

“Are you really normally in charge here?” I snapped, rounding on him. “I can’t imagine God would let an arrogant ass like you lead his church.”

Evan pulled me into the elevator. He hit the button to close the door before turning on me. I backed away, my hips hitting the handrails lining the walls. Evan put a hand on either side of me, his grip tight on the bar.

I didn’t have to look at his face to know he was _pissed_.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice a low warning.

I glanced at Martin, who was smirking. He was obviously excited to watch Evan take me in hand. I looked up at Evan, taking in his hard-set face.

“I’m sorry,” I tried.

“Not yet,” he told me. “Turn around.”

I bristled at that. This was asinine. We weren’t at the Willows anymore.

“I don’t have to submit to this,” I told him.

“Andres.”

He wasn’t going to argue with me. He wasn’t going to explain it. He wasn’t going to let me talk my way out. He’d given me an order: we both knew what was coming next, and it wasn’t Evan giving me a pass.

So I did as he told me: I turned around. I stared at the brick wall, waiting. I shouldn’t have to do this. I didn’t _want_ to do this.

My back straightened when Evan placed a hand between my shoulder blades, another hand on my hip. When Evan pushed and pulled on me, I followed. I leaned down how he wanted me, arching my back so that he had a good view of his target. I closed my eyes when he moved to undo my pants, pushing them and my boxer-briefs down.

My face was hot, and I tried to pretend Martin wasn’t there, staring at my bare ass.

“You’re getting ten for that,” Evan told me, moving next to me. “You know better. Count them out.”

“Evan—”

“Count them out, Andres.”

The first strike was the hardest. I felt embarrassed. Defeated. I thought I was passed this. I thought I would never have to do this again. Even when I opened my mouth, counting “one,” I felt helpless, falling into the same rhythm as before.

And that was what killed me: how familiar it all felt. Comfortable. I’d been away from the Willows longer than I’d been there, and yet the habit of submitting and obeying felt as second nature as if I’d been doing it my own whole life.

So what had been the point of it all then? The therapy, volunteering, and group? Moving out on my own, and becoming a professor? Lyle? Running away from the Willows to begin with? What did any of it matter if Evan alone could melt it all away with a few words? With just one order?

Evan was my Alpha and my Omega.

It was over quickly. Evan stepped away, my ass only stinging a bit, and told me to straighten myself up. Once I was properly dressed and red faced, he told me to look at him. I did, and gone was the previous anger but the pleasant calm I was so used to from him. He was satisfied with how well I behaved during his correction. He was proud of me.

“Do you want to try again?” he asked.

I nodded, not missing a beat. “Yes. I’m sorry. I have no right to question the Lord’s decisions.”

“Quite,” Evan responded with a satisfied nod. He reached past me, hitting a button so that the elevator could start moving. “Martin?”

“Yes?” he said, smirking at me.

“Please refrain from antagonizing my wife while he is in your care. We are all brothers in Christ.”

I watched the smirk slide off Martin’s face, as he scowled at the back of Evan’s head. The feeling of vindication didn’t last long: the elevator stopped, dinging again as the doors slid open.

The elevator emptied out to another long hallway, this one with nicer, hardwood floors. On either side of the hall was one singular door. It was obvious that the higher floors were apartments; I assumed for members of the church. But why did this floor seem to only have two? Or were they not apartments; was this floor meant for something else?

Evan turned to me, lifting his hand for me to take. And there it was again: the silent demand. To submit to whatever was coming next. To go with him willingly. I was so tired of following his demands. But I was even more tired of fighting him.

I took his hand, letting him pull me into the hallway. To whatever he decided would be next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy new year! 
> 
> How are you all? I'll be replying to comments soon; clear my inbox out lol. I hope you all had a great holiday season, and here's to hoping 2021 is soooooooooooooo much better than last year. We can only go up from here, right? Right? 
> 
> Okay, so I'm sure you're all wondering what my fantastic excuse for disappearing again is this time. I swear, 2020 was just NOT kind to me. I think the universe was trying to tell me to chill out and I just REFUSED to listen, so it literally did something to MAKE me have to chill out. 
> 
> The same day I posted the last chapter, I backed up all my stuff, and went to reset factory settings, right? Like I said I would to get rid of whatever weirdness I felt was going on with my laptop. Well, it started and all was good until the thing tried to reload windows. THEN it gets stuck in an infinite loop at 64%. 
> 
> And I'm not tech savvy at ALL. Yet I did all the basics and tried to enter safe mode and do all the shit you're supposed to, and nothing would make this thing work. So I took to google, which of course has 100 different unhelpful pieces of advice. The microsoft and dell forums are so unhelpful because people will literally be like "I don't know a thing about computers but this is what is happening. Please explain to me like I'm two what to do" and these fucking assholes who are paid to respond be like "well, you gotta boot the magical skyrim server twice and then hit FN 33 times and then toss your laptop to narnia and type in the secret sequence." And it's like "huh??????????" 
> 
> Either way, it took me a while to learn how to create a recovery disk (I'm sooooo tech illiterate it's a sin! I should fix that, but I didn't even know what that was until now), and even then I had to find a working laptop that I could use to do that (my work computer blocks us from saving things to USBs, probably for security purposes, so I couldn't do it there). As it was getting closer and closer to Christmas eve and I was realizing how involved it was, I just went "fuck it" and decided to worry about it over the weekend. 
> 
> Only after Christmas, I kinda got caught up in the end-of-the-year drag, and only managed to get my laptop sorted on the 1st. Literally, the universe did not want me on my laptop, I feel.
> 
> And, honestly, I feel like I needed that break from this story. As you guys know, 2020 and this story have been a STRUGGLE. And as much as I'm proud of how much I've managed to get done with this story, there is still so much to be done. And I have been feeling zero motivation to write tbqh. And that's not good. 
> 
> I said this before, but all of the mistakes I've made with this story have been tough but necessary lessons for me. And I feel like 2021 is when I need to take my writing seriously, and really start doing the work to get publish soon. That's not to say that I don't think this story, and all of the ideas I have for this universe, aren't important. But, I mean, this story was supposed to be a quirky, fun side story and transformed into THIS! Like what? What???????? 
> 
> Either way, I think the constant feedback loop of having to go back and edit and post and upload is a huge part of what is dragging this story on. I finished the last story in about 7-8 months, and yet this has been a 10-11 month project, and the ending is still no where in sight. I need to focus my attention, and, as much as I hate to say this guys, I don't think I can while being expected to upload weekly. I just don't. 
> 
> And I'm sorry, but I have to be honest. Like, just full transparency on how bad it's gotten, look at this chapter number, and know that I'm currently working on (and stuck on) chapter 63. And for those of you who have been following me for a while, you KNOW that doesn't fly with me. 
> 
> I know what I want to do, but it's hard to get there when I have to stop once a week in order to upload and stuff. And when I have a bunch of buffer chapters, it's okay to manage, but THIS just can't continue. 
> 
> So, on to the bad news, if you didn't see where this was going: I'm going on hiatus again. A planned one. I'm setting a deadline on when I want to finish this story, and I'm going to hit it. Even if it kills me. I will be uploading again this Thursday, so the chapters are an even number (lol), and then I will be back March 5th. I'll likely be changing uploading days as well (apparently Thursdays hate me?), but I'll worry about that once I'm back. 
> 
> I apologize for doing this to you guys, but I thank you for thinking this story is worth sticking around for! I really appreciate you guys, and at least I got to warn you this time! :D 
> 
> Please leave comments on what you thought about this! This chapter was really intense, right? See you all on Thursday!


	60. Chapter 60

Evan stopped in front of the door on the right side of the hallway, opening it up. I glanced back at the elevator, where Martin was watching us, his expression bored, before he hit the button for the elevator doors to close and take him somewhere else. Good. I was sick of looking at him.

“It’s not home,” Evan said, closing the door behind me, “but it’s what the Lord has provided us.”

Looking around at the room, I immediately understood why there were only two doors on this floor. The top floor had been repurposed into two suites. To the right was a large sitting/living room with vintage, dark furniture and hardwood floors. To the left was a spacious, rustic-looking kitchen, a long dining table separating it from the hallway leading to different rooms.

I couldn’t help but wander over to a window in the kitchen, looking down the street. It wasn’t a gorgeous view; in fact, the more I looked around, the more flaws I saw. The walls were an off-white that happened after years of collecting dust and not being repainted, there was groaning from where rusted pipes were obviously struggling to move water around the building, and the floor was so scuffed and cracked that I worried that the wrong step would lead me crashing through.

“Does Martin stay in the one across the hall?” I asked, walking back to where I left Evan to explore.

“Yes,” Evan said, watching me like a lion. “He does.”

“So he gets the nice suite while the rest of the congregation has to stuff themselves in the apartments on the second floor?”

“It’s not as though the entire congregation stays here,” Evan answered patiently. “For the ones who do, yes, they mostly stay on the second floor.”

I nodded, not at all surprised. Still, I wanted to push more.

“So how did Martin end up in charge here? I’m sure his relation to Deacon Paul had nothing to do with it.”

“Initially, no. But through his exile, Martin has been determined to prove his faithfulness. It seemed only right, when we needed to assign a new leader a few years ago, that the duty fall on his shoulders.”

“He’s an ass,” I snapped.

Evan sighed, closing the distance between us. I tensed, expecting him to hit me again, but all he did was cup my face in his hands, looking down at me. His hazel eyes were intense, so much so that I had to look away.

“Do you want me to take you in hand, Andres?”

I flinched, pulling out of his grasp. “No,” I said.

“Excuse you?”

“I don’t want that,” I rephrased. Him and his fucking beef with the word no.

“Then why did you come here?”

“I didn’t plan on seeing you.”

“Then why did you come here?”

I turned to him, taking another step away for good measure. Was his plan really to just talk? He cut off my magic and locked me in this church just to talk? That didn’t make any sense.

“I went to work, and saw it trashed,” I told him. Then I added for good measure, “After they let me go, I didn’t think any deeper than coming here and raising hell.”

Evan smiled, letting out a little chuckle. “It doesn’t help your case to come flying over here. Makes it look like you were seeking me out for comfort.”

I smiled then. Evan wasn’t smarter than me. We were still in Faust City; he didn’t seem to realize that I was in my element. So I crossed my arms over my chest and planted my feet.

“My ‘case’ is over,” I told him. “Whether you’re happy about it or not. And, really, you’re the one in danger right now.”

“So you intend to be difficult,” Evan said, with a nod. “That’s fine, Andres. I can help you through this.”

I was already sick of hearing him talk. So opened my mouth, ready to go in. Evan made one mistake, and that was hitting me. I hated being hit. It was probably the worst part about being his wife. I got no enjoyment out of it.

But it did center the hell out of me.

My earlier panic was gone; quite literally beaten out of me. Once the stinging and embarrassment passed, all I was left with was a focused mind. And once I was able to focus, my mind started going a mile of minute. Evan wanted to believe he was in charge, but he fucked up helping me calm down long enough to think.

“Right before I walked into work,” I started, “I was on the phone with my, uh, a friend.”

“A friend,” Evan repeated, obviously understanding what I didn’t say. “You don’t say.”

“I sort of hung up on him,” I continued, pretending Evan hadn’t spoken. “The entire time I was on my way here, he was blowing up my phone. He’ll likely calm down after some time, but if he doesn’t hear from me in the evening, he’s going to get worried again. And he’s going to call me again and again.”

“Fascinating,” Evan mocked. “And what will he do through these phone calls to hurt me?”

It was almost funny how Evan wasn’t getting it.

“He won’t do anything to you; he’s in Canada.” I looked Evan up and down, sizing him up. “Though it’s a shame he’s there. He’d probably kick your ass.”

Evan took a step towards me. “Andres—”

“I’m not done,” I told him, taking a step back. “When I don’t answer again, he’s going to call my parents. My mother, specifically, since he has her number. And the second she hears that he can’t get in contact with me, she’ll try me. And when she can’t contact me, she’s going to go to the police.”

“I doubt you’ll be considered missing long enough for it to raise red flags,” Evan said, trying to stay calm. Though I could tell by the thoughtful look on his face that the dots were connecting.

“That won’t matter. I have an order of protection attached to my name, and this new attack at my job that the school will at least have documented. Which I’m sure my mother will reach out to the school to see if I was seen there, and she’ll learn what happened and really blow up.

“But even if all of that still doesn’t rile up the cops, she has an army of sisters—including her in-laws—who will quickly organize into a search party. In a matter of hours, someone is going to track down my car, with my unanswered phone, parked across the street from the church of the monsters who kidnapped and raped me.

“And my mother won’t need the cops to back her up to bring hell on this place looking for me.”

“So what is your point, _mi sol_?” Evan asked, sweetly.

“My point is that you can’t keep me here. If I’m gone too long, it will raise too many red flags. And if I’m found here, against my will, the city will shut this church down, it’ll cause an international incident, and the Willows may be threatened. Even you’re not stupid enough to risk all of that on me.”

“You have no idea what all I would risk for you,” Evan said, honest as day. He smiled. “But you are right. As I said earlier, I didn’t expect to see you. So aside from activating the safety spell, I didn’t have a plan on what to do with you. And, yes, I had every intention of letting you go before the day was out.”

I smirked. Now that _that_ was established, I could calm down. Evan couldn’t trap me in this building. This was going to end with me walking through those front doors to freedom. It was just a matter of making it happen sooner rather than later.

“So then what do you want?”

Evan sighed, and he suddenly looked more his age than I ever saw him. Not that he was particularly old; he just looked like someone with the world on his shoulder. An entire community he was responsible for. Someone with way more going on than fucking around with a losing fighting to get me back.

“I wanted to talk, really,” he said, taking my arm and leading me to the couches. “I leave tomorrow, and I want you with me when I do.”

“That’s not happening,” I told him, trying and failing to pull away from him. “So just let me go now.”

“I will let you go when I am good and ready, _mi sol_. You need to remember yourself.”

Evan all but tossed me on one of the couches, sliding in right next to me. I straightened up, frowning at him. Waiting. Seeing how he wanted to play this. He watched me, raising a hand to cup my chin. I felt myself freeze, an automatic reaction despite the fact that I was free to pull away.

“Lord knows how much I miss you,” he whispered, his thumb moving to trace my lips.

“Can’t say I’ve felt the same,” I snapped.

Evan raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You haven’t missed me at all?”

“Nope.”

Evan sighed, shaking his head.

“I love you so much, and all I want is for you to come home.”

“I hate you so much, and all I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” Evan said, not taking his eyes off me.

“That I hate you, or that I want you to leave me alone?”

“Both.”

“Congratulations. You’re wrong.”

“I’d wish you’d drop this act,” Evan said, looking concerned. “I get it; you’re back in the city and you don’t want to upset your family by choosing me.”

I blinked, floored by that. “That’s not what this is at all.”

“It is because I know all of this anger and hatred is just a reflection of your mother than it coming from you.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true. I—”

“Love me,” Evan calmly interrupted. “I know you do. You’ve said it to me before Andres, and I know how hard that was for you. I know you weren’t lying.”

“That was different,” I snapped, hating now how calm he looked. “That was when I was in the Willows. When I was your wife. I had to—”

“I didn’t make you tell me that you loved me, Andres.” Evan looked like he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I’ve always been understanding of your circumstance. I thought it would take years and a few babies before you would even think to say that to me. I never put that expectation on you, and you know that.”

I stood, needing space. Distance. To get away from him. My mind was swirling. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. _It wasn’t true_.

But Evan grabbed my wrist, keeping me from walking away. When I looked down at him, his face was hard.

“Sit down, Andres,” he ordered. “Or you can go over my knee.”

“I don’t—” I cut myself off, not sure what to say. “We’re not at the Willows: you don’t have the right to do that.”

“And yet I will if you continue to behave like this,” he said easily. “Sit. Down.”

I swallowed, wondering for a moment how long he would let me stand before he forced me onto his lap. I didn’t want to get hit again, so I obeyed him and sat down. Only then did he let go of my arm, shaking his head.

“I understand, Andres, that you have to play this role,” he continued. “That you have to say I forced you. Abused you. Raped you even. I get it, _mi so_ l. I know you were under a lot of pressure to corroborate Jacob and Serenity’s story. That you felt you had to help them spin this narrative that we’re these evil cultists. I’m not mad at you for that, _mi sol_. I’m not.”

“I didn’t do it because of them,” I said, shaking my head. No wonder he had been so calm through all the court battle if this is what he thought. He really believed I wanted to go back to the Willows, and just needed him to help me get there. “I don’t want to go back to the Willows.”

“Andres, please. It’s just us.”

“You’re not listening to me,” I pressed, feeling at a loss. “I don’t want to go back to the Willows, Evan. I hate it there.”

“You have everything you could ever want, _mi sol_. I don’t understand why you insist on dragging this out.”

“Why can’t you stay here?” I asked, regretting the words as soon as I said it.

Evan blinked at me, obviously not expecting that.

“Elaborate, _mi sol_.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to elaborate. It was a fantasy that I knew would never happen. Evan’s home was at the Willows. Mine was in Faust City. We’d never be able to be together as long as neither of us refused to give up our homes. And whether Evan thought I had a right to declare my own home or not, I did. And I wasn’t giving it up.

Not even for him.

“Andres.”

I looked at him, meeting his frustratingly pretty eyes. I shrugged.

“There’s no point mulling over feelings if nothing can come from it,” I finally said.

“And what would you like to come from it?”

“Us here,” I admitted, feeling my face heat up. I rarely let myself think about this because I knew it was never a possibility. What was the point in thinking of what-ifs when I could instead focus on the future I could actually see coming to fruition?

“In the city?” Evan asked, his face turning towards the window. All he could see were neighboring buildings, but he watched them anyway.

“Yes,” I continued. “There’s a fucking church right here. You could lead from here instead of at the Willows.”

“And children?”

“I’d have as many as you want me to have. I wouldn’t fight you on that.”

“You’re supposed to have ten. You’d want to keep them here?”

“No. I just bought a house. It’s not much, but we could stay there for a few years, and upgrade eventually.”

“It’s not like I’d be able to make money leading the church. Not much, anyway. How would we afford to live?”

“I get paid well.”

“How could you possibly raise our children on top of working?”

I shrugged. A silence stretched between us as I stared at the ugly, grey carpet under the coffee table. Evan sighed.

“You’d have to quit your job.”

“I will not.”

“You will not be able to raise so many children while working.”

“I—”

“So you’re obviously not too committed to this vision you’ve mapped out.”

I glared at him, waiting until he finally turned to meet my gaze before continuing.

“I’d have to work, especially if you intend to focus on leading the church.”

“So how do you intend to juggle all of your responsibilities at home without quitting?”

“I will quit—” I started, my chest tugging. I took a moment, everything in me screaming to not offer this. To not put this on the table. To not even let this be an option.

But I had thought of this before. And I even quickly crunched the numbers based on my current savings and additional expenses a husband and children would add. Despite what this meant for anything I had wanted to devote my life researching, Evan would have to see that I was willing to make sacrifices to make this work. _If_ he was also willing to make sacrifices too.

I swallowed.

“I’d quit the lab,” I said. “But if I teach, I can make enough to support us and have a flexible schedule to tend to the children.”

Evan watched me, his eyes searching into my mind and soul. Looking for the lies, confirming the truth. I took measured breaths, waiting.

“Aren’t you dating someone?” Evan asked, his eyebrow raising again. “Where’s he from? China?”

“His parents are,” I said, not sure why I even answered that. “He’s Canadian.”

“How serious are you two?”

“If you say yes to this, he’s gone.”

That also hurt. But more so because I knew I’d be breaking Lyle’s heart. I would have been stringing him along all this time. Even worse, if Evan did agree to this, it would mean that Lyle was never my first choice. He was a distraction, or, fuck, a rebound.

He deserved so much more than that. He didn’t deserve someone as fickle as me.

“And you expect to give up my home, my family, my birthright, for this little dream of yours?” Evan asked, his face still serious.

“I’d be giving things up too,” I reminded him. “My career, freedom; my parents might not talk to me for a while if I do this.”

“I’d be giving up a lot more.”

“That’s not fair,” I snapped. Why couldn’t he understand? “The alternative is for me to give up everything! _My_ family. _My_ home. My magic? _My_ birthright? Your ideal situation has you getting your entire way of life while I have to give up everything. I’m sitting here willing to compromise—”

“A husband does not have to compromise, Andres,” Evan said, his voice gentle and so full of love. “That’s what you’re not understanding. _I_ am the leader. _I_ am your ruler. _I_ order and you obey. As a wife, _you_ must compromise. Always. Not me.”

I blinked at him. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not about fair, _mi sol_. This is as the Lord commands. I will always hear you out, as I have now, and I will always consider your desires. I understand that leaving the city would be hard for you. I’d be willing to make concessions.”

I shook my head. So that was it. His answer was no.

“I’d be willing to allow for visits,” Evan continued. “After you’ve had a few children. I’d love for your family to come visit the Willows as well. And I’ll let you stay in communication with your parents. Weekly phone and video calls—”

“No,” I said, my voice so quiet that I was sure Evan didn’t hear me.

“Correct yourself. And I’d even let you back at the birthing center—”

“I’m not doing that,” I said, sliding away from him.

Evan sighed, shaking his head. “So then why did I sit here and listen to your demands? If you don’t love me—”

“I do love you!” I cried before I could stop myself. Evan stopped, his thoughtful look sobering.

Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that. I didn’t want to admit to him how much I loved him.

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” I said, looking back down at the carpet. “I love you. I love you so much that I hate myself because I’m not supposed to love you. I loved you then, and I love you now and I’ve loved you all this time.”

“Andres—”

“But it doesn’t matter because love can’t make this work,” I continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t love you so much that I’m willing to go back, Evan. I hate the Willows, and I’m _not_ going back. And no matter how much I love you, I won’t go back.”

“What is so terrible about the Willows?” Evan snapped then, his patience running thin. “You act like it’s hell on earth when—”

“I hate that I can’t leave when I want,” I told him. “I hate that no matter where I turn, there is someone watching me. I hate the stupid politics of being your wife when I’m there; trying to get the wives to like me and people respect me as Mother’s replacement. I hate how much your mother hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“She _hates_ me,” I repeated. “And she makes it very fucking obvious that she does. And I hate that she hates me, and I hate-I hate how Josh is allowed to touch me, and I hate having sex with him. I hate the public beatings and gang-rapes—”

“Correct yourself.”

“The floodings! Whatever! Fuck! I hate that I have to be so particular all the time with how I say things. I hate hearing everyone tell you all the time that a good beating would make me easier to deal with. I hate that no one talks to me, but at me. I hate that every day I’m not pregnant, I’m treated like a worthless piece of shit. I hate that I don’t have my magic there. I hate how helpless I am there.”

“Submission requires vulnerability, Andres,” Evan said.

“I am helpless,” I repeated, blinking away tears. “When you had me there, you didn’t have to worry about anyone complaining about how you treated me. Now, after all this, you’re being watched. And you know it! It’s that very reason why you’re going to let me go. Why you’re waiting for me to ask you to take me in hand before you fuck me.

“When I’m here, you can only do what I consent to. You can’t force me to do shit. And that’s the very reason you refuse to compromise. Because if _I’m_ making the money, if the house is in _my_ name, and if we’re here in the city where _my_ family and friends are, if you fuck up, _I_ have the power to cut you out of my life. That’s what this is all about, Evan. You don’t want me to submit; you want me to be helpless—powerless—to stop you from doing whatever you want to me. And I’m not doing it!”

Evan sighed, standing then. I sniffed, wiping away tears before they could fall. I heard him pace a bit, taking this all in. And I let him. Something in me was breaking. That small, stupid, bit of hope that maybe Evan would be willing to compromise. That we could build a happy life here together.

Instead, I was reminded, again, that loving Evan was a waste of time. That all these feelings were a waste of time. This was why I chose Lyle; he was willing to uproot his entire life to move in with me. I was worth it to him. To Evan, I wasn’t worth sacrificing anything for. We would never be able to be together. Not without me being miserable and unhappy. Not without me having to sacrifice everything.

“There’s no point then,” Evan said, coming back and sitting next to me, “for me to take you in hand. I just want one thing, and you can leave.”

This was it. Whatever it was, Evan would end up getting it. I would submit. I would give it to him. And once I did, I could leave this fucking building, leave Evan, and never see him again. I took a deep breath in and out, ready for all of this to be over with.

“What is it?”

Evan moved, getting up and walking over to an end table. He pulled out a notepad and pen before returning and putting it on the coffee table in front of us.

“I want your current address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, forgot this chapter was also a cliffhanger. 
> 
> I think I need to chill out with those lol. And right before a HUGE break. Ahhh, I suck. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. 
> 
> Something about reading this back felt, idk, so nice. Like this feels like a major emotional moment. Not a plot climax, but definitely feels like an emotional one, you know? It felt nice having Andres unload all of this. I feel like it was obvious he was feeling all of this, but I also feel like I was kinda...trying to hide it? Which is weird because he's the MC, and it's first person pov? How do you hide it? 
> 
> I guess the same way we all ignore our feelings. 
> 
> I think in this story, this is the first time Andres says out loud that he loves Evan. Poor thing. Poor poor thing. 
> 
> Well, how about them white supremacists storming the capitol building? Wild, huh? "Totally shocking! Never saw that coming!" said no Black person ever. 
> 
> Ehhhh. Fuck it. I'm not dwelling on this. 
> 
> Sooooo, and I feel bad because this first week of the year really wanted to go off with a bang, and idk why tbqh. But, already, some wild shit is happening at my job. Last chapter (for those who maybe are skipping my notes until this chapter?), I announced I was going to have to go on hiatus in order to finish this story. Because working on it while having to upload just isn't working. I've also decided, definitively, that when I do return, it will be on a weekend, as uploading during the work week also can't continue if I want to get back to uploading consistently for you guys. 
> 
> But due to the shit at my job (and just a lot of reflection I've been having this week), I must retract my previous due back date. As much as I hate to extend this hiatus an insane amount of time, as I've been solidifying and reflecting on my goals and focuses for this year, some things need my more immediate attention, which means I won't be able to focus on this story AS much as I was sort of hoping. Not right away at least. 
> 
> As such, my official return date (and I will not rescind this) will be May 1. That's also a Saturday, so it seems like a good date overall. I'll likely come back with a post bomb, though I'll announce details on that once I get back. 
> 
> I really appreciate all of the support I've gotten with this story. You guys are insanely patient, and understanding, and I couldn't ask for better readers. I really couldn't. Thank you so much. And I hope you guys will stick around for my return in May. I have a feeling it will come up a lot faster than we'll expect, so let's power through these winter months and meet again in spring! 
> 
> I will be checking in on comments, and replying (I'm still catching up on previous ones! I'll likely get them banged out tomorrow!), so please leave me some encouragement during these upcoming dark months. And thank you all again for being so understanding and supportive. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> See you in May, space cowboys.


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